


Interference

by Thire



Category: X-Men (Movies), X-Men (Movieverse), X-Men - All Media Types, X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: (Minor) Character Death, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Bodyguard, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, M/M, Most of the characters need a hug or an exorcism there's no in between, Protective!Erik, Shaw does a lot of talking and gloating, Shaw is his own biggest fan, complicated fools with complicated confusing feelings, hurt!charles, non-suicidal self-harm (it's not what it sounds like), sassy Charles and suspicious Erik, short mention of child abuse, torture scene (short but there)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-09
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-02-04 01:52:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 29
Words: 79,365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1762273
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thire/pseuds/Thire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik Lehnsherr doesn't like the fraudulent nature of psychics (there's no such thing). His mother died believing she was receiving help from not one, but two. Thing is, when his boss asks for a favour he can hardly say no. As professional and good as he is at his job, babysitting one Charles Xavier may just be the thing he needs on his resume to boost his career in security.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> First chapter is a bit on the short side, but the rest should be longer. Hope you like it.

(Erik)

“You’ll love him,” his boss says and it happens to be the most ridiculous thing he’s heard in his entire career. “Everyone loves him.”

“You mean _you_ love him.” Clearly the man keeps forgetting everyone is not Erik Lehnsherr. In fact, he despises everything so-called psychics stand for.

His boss sighs, but allows the comment. “Listen, you’d do me a huge favour.”

“Don’t I always,” he growls in reply and knows he can get away with it because that’s how they roll. Besides, he’s good at this job no matter what it brings on unpredictable days.

 _Just sign this (and this and this) and you’ll be set for the job_ .

That’s that, he thinks, easy money and all in all this should be over in a month.

-

Without a doubt Charles Xavier’s little magic show would get hundreds of rave reviews. He can get himself to admit it’s an astonishing show, but that’s where his admiration ends because that’s exactly what it is, just a show meant to rip people off. Charles Xavier isn’t a psychic and one day he will be revealed as the fraud that he is. These fronts never last. The deception is just too public and one day there will be someone who finds a way to prove it.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have taken the job, he muses belatedly. Unfortunately there’s not much he can do about that right now, as he stands guard at Xavier’s dressing room door. He needs the money, needs the shiny experience so he can put that on his resume to boost his career a bit. More than anything he needs a drink, preferably something strong worth the hangover in the morning.

It doesn’t take Charles Xavier very long to come out of his dressing room after the show and when he does he looks decidedly less imposing than on stage. On the other hand he looks infinitely more deceiving. That is, until the smaller man looks up at him with inhumanly blue eyes and opens his mouth.

“Ah! Erik, I believe?” he asks, offering his hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

He returns the handshake without hesitation. “Yes, sir. Just doing my job.”

“Charles, please call me Charles. My assistant Sean briefed me. It’s just you and your two colleagues Alex and Armando, who I believe prefers to go by Darwin?”

Clearly he’s not the only one who’s done a background check in the last twenty-four hours. Erik finds himself approving of the words coming out of the shorter man’s mouth. That doesn’t mean Charles isn’t a manipulative liar, though. He’s simply not that easy to influence and he plans on keeping it that way. On the bright side, manipulative people were usually smart enough to understand basic instructions like duck, hide or run.

“I will serve as your personal security, which means I will never be far. Alex will be as invisible as possible and Darwin is the best driver I know. He will be taking us to the hotel. He’s waiting for us as we speak.”

“Wonderful,” Charles agrees, clearly placing the necessary trust in his skills and professionalism. “I have to say I have never done this before. Never needed security of any kind. Moira insisted someone out there wishes to see me... _less alive_ . _I_ insisted that if this madness were to happen I wanted someone discreet.”

He has to smile at the euphemism.

“She’s rather unyielding when she sets her teeth into something. Especially when it concerns my safety. This may just be the most boring job ever for you.”

He doubts that very much. He’s dealt with Moira MacTaggert and her agency before and he figures that by now it’s safe to assume Charles has an inherent way of understating matters. Somehow he finds the attitude rather charming. He wants to curse himself for letting that thought float around in his brain. He knows he shouldn’t fall for the act. The friendly pretty smile means nothing. People like Klaus Schmidt and his associate Emma Frost have taught him as much. If evil has a name and all of that… He would not be deceived like that again. Never.

He returns his attention to his client because there is no going back now.

“Shall we go then?” Charles suggests as if reading his mind.

He gives him a curt nod before leading the way to the back of the theatre where Darwin would be waiting with a car.

“There’s no one outside. We should be ready to leave in an instant, sir.”

The look on Charles’ face makes him want to correct himself. Damn. “Charles,” he adjusts. The smile he gets in reply is even worse than the previous one. He _really_ should not have taken this job.

Charles just laughs out loud in reply. “I’m a psychic, Erik, not a celebrity.”

“Is that what your fans believe as well?”

“Usually? Yes.”

They pass through the final corridor leading to the back exit of the old building.

“The difference is that they’re here for help instead of an autograph.”

“I doubt everyone respects that thought.”

The idea of Charles not being a celebrity is just as ridiculous as the people who believe that sort of nonsense. His client seems to believe his own words, though. Good thing Moira MacTaggert is his agent in that case. Clearly the man can’t even estimate his own impact on people. He draws more of a crowd than the royals for crying out loud. Erik tells himself it doesn’t bother him. If anything, it’s true that this information bothers him less than expected. Naive and manipulative don’t tend to go together, but then there’s always that one exception to every rule.

“Not everyone, I suppose.”  
  
Erik guesses Charles wouldn’t be needing a bodyguard if that were the case.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This fic isn't entirely chronological, given that I switch POV from Charles to Erik and back when the story calls for it. It should be clear enough, but if not feel free to ask. The previous chapter is the middle of this chapter. 
> 
> Thank you for the comments and kudos. Glad you like it so far and hope you continue to enjoy this fic.
> 
> Crimes against spelling and grammar are mine. I've already changed a few things in the first chapter. Oh and of course I don't own a thing.

(Charles)

He wonders why these people work for him. Moira in particular makes it abundantly clear that he does not have much of a say in her decisions. He can pick the flavour, but not what's for dinner. It’s exactly why he hired her. She’s the toughest agent in the business, but deep down everyone knows she has a soft spot for his antics.

"This is hardly necessary," he tries to reason with her.

"Have you read it? Because as much as this is a complete waste of tree and clearly any form of proper education, I doubt we should just ignore this and throw it in the bin."

"Moira, love."  
  
"Don't love me, Charles. This is serious." She leans forward in her office chair, her body language betraying her. Charles can tell she's genuinely worried for his safety.

He mirrors her movement and grasps her hand on the desk. "It's probably nothing and I'll be on the other side of the world."

Sort of.

"Ignoring this is stupid, even if it _is_ an idle threat."

"Fair enough," he concedes.

She rolls her chair back so she can open her desk drawer and reach for one of the folders inside.

"Erik Lehnsherr," she says as she slides the document over to his side. "Sean knows every word on those pages. Just ask him or call me. And Charles, please let the man do his job."

Sometimes he even wonders who works for whom.

"Moira, dear. I swear I'm potty-trained."

"I have a copy of that letter. You need me to send it to your phone so you have a daily reminder? I'd love to give you the original, but since the local police insists it's evidence and you're not getting anything when you touch it..."

"I get the picture and trust me when I say the words are right here," he says tapping his right index finger on his temple.

"Good."

"It's not every day I get a death threat."

She looks at the stapler as if she wants to throw it in his face.

"No, really. I know. Don't worry," he adds.

"I hope so because I'm not telling your sister how her idiot brother got himself killed."

"I've got to go now, I'm afraid. Sean will be waiting."

"Go catch that plane so I don't have to book another flight."

"Bye, Moira." He gives her a quick friendly peck on the cheek. "I'll be back before you know it."

"Bye, Charles. Be safe."

  
-

 

He turns to his assistant on the flight from New York to London. He could just read the entire document, but he prefers to turn it into a conversation and by now he knows Sean appreciates the distraction. Sean likes flying about as much as he likes getting death threats.

"Erik Lehnsherr," he says, knowing it will prod his assistant to divulge all he knows.

"I er... was thinking. Maybe you can guess and I can add things?"

"A game then."

Sean's easily the youngest of his staff in both age and spirit. It's hard not to love the kid and his ideas. It keeps him young too, he hopes.

"He's fluent in German."  
  
Sean smiles. "And French." 

"He's smart, strong and thinks out of the box."

Sean nods.

"Useful. Hmm... something... why am I...?" Charles laughs. "I honestly have no idea why I am seeing a shark."

He throws a glance at the other passengers, expecting shark-themed shirts and Finding Nemo on the tiny tv screen on the seat before him.

"That may be my fault," Sean offers apologetically. He proceeds by digging his phone out of his pocket and showing him the pictures Moira had forwarded.

Especially the last picture but one has him in stitches. Surely, one cannot have that many teeth. The man's... attractive, Charles realises. Judging by the next one he's cute as well. It shows Erik in an attempt at a smile, a bit of a failed attempt.

"Scary," Sean comments. Charles can tell the boy means it too.

"He'll be too busy guarding me to have you for dinner."

"Have you seen Jaws, man?"

"I have a feeling I will soon."

The smile remains on his face while he guesses the rest of Erik's resume. Sean's astonishment at his correct details still warms his heart. It's nice not to be judged for what he can do.

The flight passes without incident. Sean would later claim that he didn’t fall asleep in the middle of a sentence. No one in their right mind falls asleep on a gigantic deathtrap. That's when Charles will show his assistant the picture he snapped with his phone.

He goes straight to the venue while Sean heads to the hotel to make sure everything is in order. He's tired before the show begins, but he knows by now that the exhaustion is only temporary. He'll feel better once he catches a few winks. He just hopes Erik Lehnsherr lives up to his name and doesn't mind too much if he falls asleep (on him) where he stands. Turns out, after changing in his dressing room, that Erik is a lot of things but certainly not what he expected.  
  
"Ah! Erik, I believe?" 

 

-

 

(Erik)

 

The hotel isn’t as outrageously expensive as expected. For a brief moment he wonders whether this is all part of the act too, or if Charles genuinely enjoys a bit of normalcy from time to time. Why else would Charles (and his money) pick a mediocre hotel in an average neighbourhood? Erik knows Alex has done thorough research, but he doesn’t remember the report stating anything quite like this. The floor plans he’d received only showed so much. The place is oddly low key,  but he can’t exactly blame the kid for being cautiously optimistic. Erik isn’t about to word any of those thoughts, though. In fact, it’s perfect given the circumstances, which brings him to wonder if this is MacTaggert’s doing or Charles’ choice.

“All clear,” comes Alex’ voice through his earpiece.

“Going up then?” Charles asks as if he’s just heard the same message.

Maybe Charles has minions at every corner, like that blasted Starbucks place he can’t seem to escape. If only the coffee there wasn’t that decent.

“And no, Erik. I didn’t just read your mind.  
  
The words are accompanied by another one of those grins and Erik feels a little lost all of a sudden, torn between the need to wipe that grin off the man’s face and stare at it. Besides, he wasn’t thinking that. Or, maybe he was, just for a split second and not because he believes Charles can do such a thing. 

Of course the bloody lift is against him too, like the rest of the universe. It only takes forever to get to the third floor and to the room. Charles clearly doesn’t see anything inappropriate in looking directly at him, as if he’s expecting some kind of revelation; as if he, Erik Lehnsherr, is interesting. He doesn’t know which is worse.

“Delightful,” Charles comments gleefully upon inspecting the room for the first time. There’s nothing delightful about it, in Erik’s very humble opinion. When he doesn’t reply, Charles continues his observations. By now Erik is not surprised at all. “I quite like hotel rooms,” Charles explains, running a hand over the surface of the desk against the wall. “They have a lot of stories to tell.”

The only story he sees is that it’s a simple but large room, as requested. Technically they have two rooms, the spaces each other’s mirror image with a sliding door in between and a shared bathroom. The only thing hightech about this place is probably the button to close the blinds and the ones for the light above the nightstands.

“I’ll be in the next room, if there’s anything suspicious…” he trails off when he sees a grin on Charles’ face. Another one, he should add. He’s certain the man is mocking him by now.

“Yes, of course. I’ll send you a telepathic alert.”

The words stop him dead in his tracks.

“The look on your face is rather priceless, Erik. I promise, no certifiable mind voodoo just yet. You ought to buy me dinner for that first. Which reminds me, room service?”

Charles obviously enjoys hearing his own voice, that must be it. Erik honestly can’t bring himself to look any less incredulous.

“You realise I can tell when people think I’m a fraud? It’s really not that difficult to do. Whether you attribute that to my people skills or the research I supposedly do, I have no idea. I have to admit I don’t really care either way. It’s certainly not my plan to convince you of anything if that makes you feel any better.”

“Good,” Erik says. “Don’t.”

“That’s not why you’re here. You’re here because Moira insists you’re discreet, know what you’re doing and will respect my input. I don’t have the energy to care about what you think my motives are. So now we’ve got that out of the way, what am I ordering for you and the boys outside?”

He really wants to wring Charles’ neck. On the other hand, he has to admit the man has balls.

“Doesn’t matter,” he says instead. “They’re not expecting anything.”

“That’s a shame. I’ll just have to surprise them.”

Erik wishes Charles would just stop smiling like that. It’s really unfair.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading. ♥  
> Comments and kudos are most welcome, as always. ;)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos. It really helps to know people are enjoying this, so really big thanks. <3

(Erik)

 

Even the damn spaghetti seems to be mocking him. _I am so delicious, I even look perfect on this cheap plate_. Like the dish was saying he could just as well be wrong about Charles too. The psychic had ordered himself spaghetti as well. He spots the meal half untouched on Charles’ nightstand. The man in question's asleep, one arm hanging out of the hotel bed nearly touching the carpet. It’s a strangely endearing sight and for an even more inexplicable reason he’s willing to admit as much. Not to Charles, he wouldn’t be waking his client for something that trivial.

He can’t help jumping when his phone buzzes on the nightstand.  
  
“Yes?” he growls.  
  
“Oh, scared the shit out of you, didn’t I?” Erik knows the boys count that as a success even if the answer is no.  
  
“What is it, Alex?”

“Nothing, just thanks for the food. How did you know what to get? Last time I checked you didn’t know the difference between an egg white and an egg yolk.”

 _I can cook_ , he wants to say. He’s good at it too, very good. It’s not because he doesn’t do a lot of cooking (that they know of) that he can’t.

“I didn’t,” he says instead. “Our client ordered.”

"See, I told you!" he hears on the other side. “Charles ordered? Dude, that’s scary.”

Erik rolls his eyes. They’d barely met him and they were calling their client by his first name.

“Why’s that?” He hopes he sounds entirely uninterested.

“Er… because we got exactly what we wanted?”

“The guy reads people for a living.” Erik sighs. He really doesn’t need a pair of fanboys on his hands right now, or ever.

“He read I love ratatouille and Darwin was craving for some cannelloni? He hasn’t had cannelloni in ages.”

Even Erik has to admit that’s impressive. He throws a glance at the sleeping form on the bed across from him.

“I’ll take your sudden silence as-”

“Just,” he interrupts the two young men on the other end.

“We know, _focus on the job_.”

“At least get my voice right if you’re going to imitate me.” He sighs again.

“Darwin here says there’s a thin line between being a boss and committing murder.”

“If you’re that afraid of me why aren’t you working right now?”

“You know we work our butts off.”

He does know that, just as well as he knows this kind of job gets boring if you can’t have a few laughs. If this keeps them on their toes, it’s well worth it to be the centre of their stand-up comedy act. He works with these two morons because they’re exactly the kind of competent he needs.

“I’m hanging up,” he says, but apparently not before he hears them share something about Charles’ sister being hot.

Wonderful. Instead of rolling his eyes again he gets up to check the windows and hallway.

 

-

 

When Erik returns from a quick shower in the morning he finds Charles talking to his personal assistant on the phone. The boy on the other end is loud and screechy enough for him to recognise.

“Tomorrow won’t be easy because of the show, but if it’s urgent he can drop by this afternoon?” Charles pauses, intently listening to whatever Sean Cassidy’s relaying. “Okay, that’s perfect. You can tell him he’s not a bother at all. He’ll worry if you don’t.” He looks up at Erik with the phone pinned between his shoulder and ear. “Yes, he will.” Charles grins. “I’ll tell him not to bite.”

Erik doesn’t want to know what that’s supposed to mean, but Charles being Charles he tells him anyway.

“You scare the shite out of my assistant.”

_Oh for the love of…_

Charles shrugs. “Childhood nightmares.”

“Well, he’s not alone.” He doesn’t know why he lets that slip, has absolutely no idea. All he gathers is that he _wants_ to tell Charles something about himself, something that's not on his resume.

Charles lips form an understanding _‘oh’_ , but doesn’t pressure him into explaining.

“My friend Hank McCoy will drop by in the early afternoon, work related.”

“He a psychic too?”

And if the man’s laughter wasn’t so contagious…

“Oh no, I’m afraid not. He prefers solid evidence. He’s a doctor, works for the police. I help him out from time to time. Do whatever I can, really.”

“Which means? What are we looking at?”

“Nothing special. He’ll be coming up here well aware of our arrangement. He won’t be a bother. I trust him with my life, Erik.”

“Okay.” He supposes that’s fair. Smart people like Charles don’t just say that for the fun of it unless there’s some kind of ground. You don’t _just_ trust people with your life. He hopes.

“Besides, he takes discreet to a whole new level. Call it paranoid, if you like. So, sit back and enjoy the peace and quiet, tomorrow will prove to be a lot more exciting.”

“I have no doubt.”

The shorter man gets up to retrieve a small box from his luggage.

“Do you play chess, Erik? Helps me clear my head.”

Erik answers the request by accepting the travel set and setting up the board and pieces.

“You’re good at this, aren’t you?” Charles asks.

He doesn’t dignify that question with a reply. He thinks he’ll just show Charles. He wins too, but it’s not an easy win. They’re equally matched and it’s been a long time since he played against someone with skills at least as good, but at the same time different from his. He knows he plays a very offensive game and creates gaps in someone’s defence where there seemingly are none. Charles plays a more defensive game, but equally dangerous. He strikes when you least expect it. He draws you in and lets you think you have the upper hand when you really don’t.

It’s a thrilling experience and Erik has to admit he wouldn’t be against the prospect of another game in the near future. It would be a shame to miss out on something so absorbing.

“Thank you, Erik,” Charles tells him.

“For letting you lose?”

“That was hardly losing. I demand a rematch tonight if you can spare the time?”

Demanding things if _he_ feels up to it. Charles was a conundrum.

“If you’re looking to lose again. I don’t see why not,” he challenges with a smile.

“Wonderful,” Charles says, patting his own knees in excitement. “Hank will be here shortly. I’m going to head to the bathroom for a quick shower.”

 

-

 

“Hank, it’s so good to see you, my friend. How can I help you?” They hug like long lost brothers, but then perhaps Charles hugs stray puppies and strangers like that too.

“I was hoping you could tell me more about this,” Hank explains, showing Charles a small box, then looks at Erik to make sure Charles is comfortable with showing him in front of his security.

“Hank, this is Erik. We can do this right here, if you don’t mind. He’s just keeping an eye on me, making sure I don’t get killed by an angry mob. And that I stay put because of that.”

“Good luck with that.”

Much to his surprise, the young scientist’s words are directed at him.

He shrugs. “I try.” Apparently they’d get along. He _likes_ the kid. He can tell there's more to Hank than meets the eye.

He makes himself scarce in his own part of the room, giving the two friends some privacy. He still has a good view of what Charles is doing and watches him open the box to reveal a necklace. It’s a pretty piece of jewellery, handcrafted from what he can see. Growing up his mother had a jewellery store he used to help out in. It’s as if handcrafted items have an authentic vibe to them, the kind he can feel from a distance.

Hank doesn’t say a word, allows Charles to touch the necklace and close his eyes in concentration. It seems like forever before Charles reopens his eyes and Erik catches himself being curious. 

“She’s alive,” he says at last. “Talk to her uncle again, she’s in the basement. If he gets suspicious he’ll move her.”

“Thank you, Charles,” Hank says. The _again_ is clearly implied. “I owe you one.”

Another one, Erik bets.

Hank nods at Erik before jogging out of the room.

"What was that all about?”

“Occupational hazard I’m more than willing to live with? Doesn’t always work, though.”

In all fairness that’s the only answer Erik needs, especially when his eyes fall on the front page of the newspaper the next morning. Police had found a missing girl in her uncle’s basement. The article doesn’t mention Charles, just utter luck and exigent circumstances. Clearly he’d been wrong about Charles being an attention seeker too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Charles learns more about Erik's past. This is not all there is to Erik's story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit darker than the other chapters. I don't think it's explicit or triggery, but please tell me if it is.

(Charles)

 

Helping Hank doesn’t usually leave him with a hangover headache the next morning. He figures it’s the last couple of days wearing him out. The headache’s mild, but it’s still there and quite frankly a bit annoying to wake up to. He has work to do today.

“Good morning, sunshine,” Erik says from his spot at the desk, hidden behind a newspaper and a cup of coffee. He sounds chipper; blink and you’ll miss the hidden layer.

“Alex got us breakfast.”

“Coffee, I see.”

“Tea, actually. I may have demanded a detour for some caffeine.” He points to the tray on Charles’ nightstand.

Erik is still staring at him when he reaches for some toast. He’s been staring since Charles opened his eyes. Charles won’t be satisfied with room service every morning, but now’s not the time to breach that subject, there’s something far more urgent in the air.

He decides to stare back, toast in one hand, until Erik either goes back to his crossword puzzle or opens his mouth. The latter would include a conversation he’s not feeling up to at all.

Erik sighs. “We need to talk, Charles.”  

“We really don’t?” he tries. He takes a bite out of his toast and puts it back on the plate before moving away from his breakfast to sit on the edge of the bed. At least now he can properly face Erik.

“I think we do. I’ll go first because I owe you an apology. I’m sorry I didn’t believe you.”

Charles chuckles, can’t help himself. “You do now?”

“You can’t blame me for finding this hard to believe.”

As much as he appreciates Erik’s earnest apology, it’s clearly not the only issue they need to tackle.

“I do,” Erik adds. “I’m having difficulties seeing that, but I do and I really am sorry.”

“I know you are,” he offers in return.

“I think you should get someone else to protect you.”

Charles barely even breathes before replying. “No.”

“ _No_?”

“You don’t want to quit and I don’t want you to go either.”

“That doesn’t mean I shouldn’t.”

“Or _should_ , Erik. I’m not just letting you leave while we both know neither of us wants that.”

“I don’t…”

It’s the first time Erik stumbles for words. Erik’s not a man of many words in general, but he can tell this is painful for him.

“It would be easier if we just found someone else and-”

Charles shakes his head. “It wouldn’t. Not everyone is as willing to sign that contract and it would take too long to find someone. You know that as well as I do, don’t kid yourself. Moira would make me cancel the shows and she’d sue you for breaking the contract. Then I would have to stop her and that’s just suicide.”

“But you would do that?”

“Absolutely. All I’m asking is that you hear me out for a minute, before you make any decisions.”

“Fair enough.”

“I don’t believe we’re seeing the entire picture here. I’m not and you’re not. I do know there’s something you’re not telling me and that you want to tell me. What if I told you you wouldn’t have to say anything?”

“What are you saying? That you’ll just pluck it out of my head?”

“That’s one way of putting it.”

“What else would you call it?”

“I wouldn’t pry.”

“You’ve been in enough minds to know that for a fact?”

Charles sighs. “This is child’s play to me, Erik. I know my boundaries well enough to pace myself. Forget it. You’re right, it’s not worth it.”

“Okay,” Erik says instead.

“ _Okay_? You’re certain?”

“Don’t ask me again, just do it.”

“Would you mind sitting down over here?” Charles asks, patting the bed beside him. He waits for Erik to settle down right next to him.

“What do I do?”

“Nothing, just close your eyes. Let me do the work.”

_Erik’s mind is both trusting and a mix of fear and uncertainty. He’s trying to be welcoming, doesn’t fear Charles, fears his demons._

“Breathe, Erik. I swear I won’t hurt you.”

_He knows. Charles isn’t Schmidt; he won’t manipulate him like he and Emma Frost manipulated his mother. Still, Erik doesn’t understand why he agreed to do this. The confusion is obvious. There it is, against Erik’s own expectations, being pushed to the front so Charles can see._

_Erik’s mum, Edie, is beautiful and a wonderful mother to Erik._

_He doesn’t pry, as promised, but these are the kind of sensations he can pick up without trying and he feels Erik’s appreciation humming back._

_There’s so much love there, the kind his own mother never quite managed to bestow upon him. He supposes she tried in her own way before she drank herself to death._

_He lets that thought sift through to Erik as well, to offer him something in return, something difficult from his own past._

_He digs a little deeper and while he can feel Erik’s discomfort he can also feel enough trust to push forward. He wonders when he earned it._

_Cancer, but Erik’s mum refuses modern medicine. She insists she knows someone who can help her. Erik isn’t convinced, tries to reason with her and persuade her to listen to the doctors. She hates hospitals. They’re factories and she does not want to be just another number, waiting for reassembly. What could it possibly hurt to try something else?_

_Schmidt tells her there’s hope, that his associate Emma Frost can help. She is gifted. For too much money they promise them the impossible. Erik tells his mum she shouldn’t, but he doesn’t have the heart to deny her at least one session and figure it out for herself. Maybe then she’ll talk to the doctor again._

_Edie’s pain diminishes. At first it doesn’t go away entirely, but after a few appointments the agony’s gone and she’s certain that she’s cured. They’ve told her that. They made her believe it._

_Erik is skeptic, tries to convince her to head back to the hospital, if only for another scan. She refuses. They fight and Erik drops the subject for a little while. She says she’s perfectly healthy, but Erik doesn’t see his mother the way she sees herself in the mirror. Edie doesn’t see how thin she is getting, or the bags under her eyes. She is fine, she insists, doesn’t realise what’s truly happening and there’s nothing Erik can do about it. They argue again, and again. He tries to get other people to back him up, but she won’t listen to any of them either. It’s her choice. Erik feels powerless and watches his mother die. She dies eight_ _months after stepping inside Schmidt’s office._

_Charles sees Schmidt’s face now and feels Erik’s burning anger. The man smiles as he offers Edie a discount for her first session with Emma. She will be well. One session won’t hurt._

_Charles feels nauseated when he pulls back._

“Oh, Erik, I am so so sorry.”

“They didn’t even go to prison. I can’t protect you, Charles. It’s too close to home.”

“I understand, Erik. I won’t ask again. Thank you for allowing me to understand.”

Charles can feel a tear run down his face and notices Erik’s face isn’t dry either.

“Come to my show tonight? Not as my bodyguard but as a friend?”

Erik locks eyes with him. “I think I can do that.”

“What happened to them?” Charles asks. “Did they just disappear?”

“Someone uncovered their activities, sent proof to the police, but they ran before they could be arrested. Must’ve had someone on the inside. At least they shouldn’t be able to murder more people. If my mother were still alive she’d tell me to be grateful for that.”

Charles puts his hand on top of Erik’s in silent support. He offers a small smile and hopes he can show Erik he doesn’t mean any harm, that he truly wants to help. He does, wishes he could take all of Erik’s pain away.

“I’m sorry if I was presumptuous.”

“You had every right. I chose to assume you were lying to me.”

“I can hardly blame you for that. Thank you for helping me understand.”

“That’s not all you can do?” Erik guesses, changing the subject. It seems to be how he copes.

“No, it’s not.” he answers truthfully, then smiles just a little. “Tonight, the show.”

“Okay,” he agrees again. It’s a promise.

This may be the last day he spends with Charles.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! :) ...and commenting/leaving kudos. Poke the author?


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moving things forward, just a bit.

“I called Moira,” Charles breaks the silence during their drive to the theatre.

Erik knows he can trust Darwin to get them there safely, so he focuses all of his attention on Charles. Charles, his client. _Ex-client_.

“What did she say?”

“What _didn’t_ she say, you mean.” Charles grins. “There was a lot of swearing. She threatened to buy a voodoo doll, name it Lehnsherr and drown it.”

He gulps in reply. Don’t mess with badass ladies with a reputation. “That seems a bit vicious.”

“I told her I’d like to continue as scheduled. She refused to listen. To be honest I wouldn’t let her continue either if our roles were reversed.” He sighs. “As much as I’d like to go on, I suppose it’s better to cancel.”

“I’m sorry, Charles.”

“No, don’t be. It’s fine. I can come back some other time. I’m still doing the auction though. At least she agreed to that.”

“Auction? Why don’t I know anything about that?”

“Probably because I never told you. Wasn’t part of the deal,” he explains.

“So, what? I was supposed to take the day off? I don’t see the logic here.”

“Before Moira told me to hire you I didn’t exactly expect… well, _you_. I need some freedom. I don’t expect too much when doing my shows, but the auction is something that’s always been safe and allowed me to breathe for just a day. The venue has its own security, they can just as well keep an eye on me too, from a distance. I had no idea you'd be so lenient.”

“I'm not. So how does it work?” he asks, before Charles can tell him what a compassionate soul he is, or something else that's just as utterly ridiculous. He's not lenient. 

“The person who offers the most money gets a personal meet and greet and I try to help them as much as possible.”

"Isn't that what the shows are for?"

"The approach is more personal and it's a charity event, Erik. The money goes to a good cause after I triple it."

He supposes that explains part of Charles' reasoning.

"Show-off," Erik huffs under his breath.

Charles laughs.

No wonder the media like him. And he happens to be _oh so annoyingly British_ , drinking tea during interviews and apologising for being early when the damn interviewer’s late. Don’t get him wrong, it still gets on his nerves just a bit, mostly because he has to admit he’s starting to like Charles more than expected. A lot more, if he dares say. He’s just done his research, that’s all. It’s only helpful that he’s seen those interviews on _YouTube_. Even back then he should’ve realised that the lack of need to puke at Charles’ impeccable behaviour had been a sign.

“Impeccable behaviour, Erik?” Charles asks, giving him an incredulous stare. I’m sorry, truly didn’t mean to catch that. It’s just you’re _loud_ , and hilarious.” He falls silent for a bit. “And endlessly interesting.”

He can feel a mental nudge accompanying those last words. Nothing invasive, just _Charles_.

He has a loud mind. He has a _loud mind_.

 

-

 

_Everything would’ve been less complicated if he’d just left after announcing his departure._

 

-

 

At least a few people he knows would chop off their limbs in order to see Charles’ show from his spot on the stage, just hidden from view. They’d be terribly jealous. It’s only logical for him to accept the special seat. Charles doesn’t have a replacement for him yet and from here he has a good view of the theatre and, more importantly, can intervene if something happens. He has Alex in the back and Darwin keeping an eye on the security cameras. Both of them didn’t mind coming along.

Logically he knows Charles is good at this, everyone knows, even if they haven’t seen him interact with an audience yet. Much to his surprise he starts the show with a personal story, not some kind of awe-inducing trick.

“My father was a scientist,” Charles tells the audience. They laugh in reply, as if it’s something unthinkable in Charles’ line of work. Perhaps it is. As far as he can see they appreciate the personal approach as much as he does.

“Yes, I know. It’s hard to believe, isn’t it? He always wanted me to follow into his footsteps and from an early age he taught me lots of things, anything I seemed interested in. Which was quite a bit, if I dare say so myself. After my father passed away I went to college to study genetics. I was younger than most at the time and started feeling different, which only ever intensified my passion for science, as if it would help me figure everything out. It didn’t, I should add. Some things became clearer, others not so much. What I do know now is that the answer doesn’t really matter. I sought to explain why I could do these impossible things. In the end I chose not to pursue answers, I rather tried to embrace being different as a good thing. I may be different in here,” Charles says, bringing his right index finger to his temple. “But I’m not so different in here.” He brings his other hand to his chest where his heart’s located.

Before Erik has the chance to call any of that cheesy, Charles continues. He supposes he could think it, _loudly_.

“All of that at the risk of sounding like an old fart, as my sister would put it. She’s doing very well, just terribly frustrated she can’t be here tonight to kick me for saying that. I’m still honouring the memory of my father and like thinking he would be proud of me for finding my own way and developing enough confidence in life. It’s never easy and we can only hope for the best. That’s what I’d like to do tonight, try my very best for you... How about a monkey trick?”

Charles’ word choice comes as a surprise. Clearly he’s already dealt with tons of judgmental people; Erik made that mistake too.

“Any volunteers?” The response is enthusiastic enough. “Yes, you, sir. Thank you. I’d like you to think of a number between one and five hundred and write it down on this piece of paper. In fact, I’d like the people around you to do the same.” He jumps off the stage to give the piece of paper to the gentleman on the third row.

Erik’s first impulse is to jump off stage after him, then (thankfully) realises that would look rather silly. Not that he should care about that.

“Whatever you do, don’t let me see it,” Charles adds, before climbing back on stage with ease.

“Very well. Sir, is your number twenty-five?”

The man shakes his head.

“No? Well, then it must be six hundred thirty-eight.”

Once more the man shakes his head in reply.

“I can see your wife knows what’s going on here.”

The woman next to the gentleman looks a bit surprised at the deduction.  
  
“The last one is mine,” she speaks up.

Charles smiles at her. “I have to admit. Usually when I ask my audience to write down numbers between one and five hundred they don’t pick six hundred thirty-eight.”

The lady blushes and Erik guesses it has nothing to do with her bending the rules a bit. Oh no, she’s smitten and looking at Charles as if she’d like for him to be her grandson. He’s a bit mesmerised by Charles’ handling of the show. He hasn’t seen him prepare at all, as if it’s improvisation from the very beginning. It’s good to see Charles isn’t using his show to nurture his bank account or to heal incurable diseases. He wouldn’t have been able to sit through that.

He’s only spent three days near the man and already it’s as if he’s known him for so much longer.

 _Nothing to report_ , reads Darwin’s text message when his phones buzzes. He returns his focus to Charles.

When Charles reunites two family members Erik just knows it isn’t staged. By the time the show ends he’s had way too much time to think.

He follows Charles to his dressing room.

“You look exhausted,” he comments.

“I certainly feel like that, but don’t worry I can still hide, duck or run.”

Erik remembers that train of thought from when they first met. “You heard that, huh?” He’s not sure if he should be angry or admire that. It leaves him speechless.

“Sorry, didn’t mean for it to sound quite like that.”

“Thoughts were loud when we met too?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Please don’t take offense. I have to admit I thought it rather charming you found me one of your more intellectually challenging clients.”

Erik smirks. “That wasn’t a compliment. Anything else you caught?”

“Not much, some thoughts here and there. I didn’t go looking because I knew you wouldn’t appreciate it, despite signing that contract. Did you even read that?”

“Of course I did.”  
  
“Hm…”

It’s true he hadn’t bothered taking the agreement seriously. No such thing as psychics, after all.

Charles twiddles his fingers near his temple. “If I may?” he asks.

Erik looks a bit doubtful but nods anyway. They’ve already established Charles won’t do anything risky. Especially after this morning he can have faith in the other man’s skills.

_It’s a bit different from what I did this morning, not nearly as invasive. This is what I do during the show as well. I can access memories people don’t know they have._

_Charles is speaking directly into his mind again, but this time it's a lot more natural and subtle, like transferring meaning and emotion without really needing the actual words._

“If I lose my keys I’ll give you a call?”

“A lot of people are actually here for that. You’d be surprised. I talk to most of the audience like this during an average show.”

“No wonder you’re exhausted. Yet you choose to be in my head as well?”

“You’re not a room full of people and you have an interesting mind, my friend. I find your mind rather comfortable.”

“That’s… good to know?”

Erik stops at Charles’ dressing room.

“I’ll be just a minute, unless you prefer to leave right now?”

“We’re taking you back to the hotel, Charles. It’s the least.”

He gets that charming smile in return. “Very well.”

 

-

 

The ride back to the hotel is entirely uneventful and way too quiet. Erik can’t quite pinpoint why the thought of leaving Charles makes him feel uneasy all of a sudden. _Because that would make him an asshole_ , comes to mind. That’s not the only reason though. He’s gonna drop the man off in his room at the very least, and make sure there’s no one inside who doesn’t belong there. Like he explained to Charles: it’s the least he can do.

Only, they have to actually get there first.

“I had no idea there was such a thing as a traffic jam at a lift,” Charles jokes, moving further down the hall to open the door to the stairway.

“No one’s following,” Erik notes.

“Maybe they’re on the sixteenth floor or something, or perhaps they’re just lazy and don't mind waiting.”

He’s behind Charles but he can tell the shorter man just rolled his eyes.

“Very mature,” he comments.

“Mature is rather dull most of the time, don’t you think?” He stops between the second and third floor to give Erik a pointed look.

“I suppose…” Erik trails off, mesmerised by Charles’ very blue eyes.

“Not contacts,” Charles supplies without blinking.

“Huh?”

“My eyes, Erik. You’re staring.”

“And _loud_ , apparently.”

Charles grins, brighter than ever. “Very much so.”

Without a second warning (or much of a first) Charles leans forward and presses his lips to Erik’s.

“Well then,” Charles says, interrupting the moment himself.

 _Well then indeed_. He’s attracted to the man and the feeling is clearly mutual.

“I was going to suggest chess, but…”

“Mature is rather dull?” Erik guesses.

Charles smiles in return. “And they say _I_ can read minds.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you can, let me know what you think so far. Thank you for reading.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Not even Charles and Erik are sure what it is they're doing. They're sure about last night though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit of a struggle and then life happened.  
> (Also, sorry if you were expecting more explicit content there, but I don't know how to write that without sounding utterly ridiculous, so I chose to keep the rating and content 'mature'. As for mature: I intend to go a bit darker than this plot-wise.)

The next morning Charles wakes up with a smile on his face and there’s nothing that can wipe it off, not even Erik’s meager attempt at humour.

“Who are you? What are you doing in my bed?”

Charles can deduce he’s been awake for a while, staring at him with a smile of his own on his face, the kind that should only be allowed in toothpaste commercials. He can see where Sean gets the shark thing. Charles files Erik’s toothy grin under things he unexpectedly finds attractive.

“Good morning to you too. I’m the person you shagged last night.

He has bite marks on his right shoulder to prove it, courtesy of one Erik Lehnsherr.

“This is crazy, isn’t it?”

“I’m sure there’s a more eloquent way to put it,” Charles offers.

Erik moves a little closer, leaning over him so their noses can touch. “Soooo, are my thoughts loud now?”

“Oh hush, you. Kiss me.”

He does.

“They _are_...but don’t stop.”

Erik rolls his eyes. “Fuck you, Charles.”

“I…”  Their lips touch again. “I really didn’t expect you to say that. For your information you already did, my friend. I thought we’d already established that.”

“You’re such a smartass.”

“You know you like that side of me.”

Erik groans. “And every other side,” He admits as he moves down to kiss a particularly sensitive spot near Charles’ belly button. Charles can’t help the soft gasp that escapes him.

“Hm, Erik?”

Erik’s head pops up at that.

“As much as I’d hate to be a spoilsport, I have a bit of paperwork to muddle through today.”

Erik drops down on the mattress beside Charles, a resigned sigh accompanying the movement.

“Later,” he promises. “So, you have a sister.”

As far as subject changes go, Erik’s about as subtle as a golf cart crashing into the back of a Lexus.

“My parents adopted her when I was eight. She’s a force of nature, but the best sister one could hope for.”

“What would she say if she discovered our little…” Erik wags his finger between the two of them. “Endeavour.”

“She’d kick you, repeatedly.”

“That’s… promising.”

“Erik…”

“You have work to do,” Erik reminds him before he can ask any of the questions on his mind.

_What are we doing? Will you leave? What’s different?_

Even if he tried reading Erik’s mind, he wouldn’t get a clear answer.

_I don’t know. Erik doesn’t know either._

His brain tells him it’s too complicated, Erik has a pretty good reason to leave. His eyes tell him he hasn’t (yet) and his heart doesn’t want to consider the option. They’re stuck _somewhere_ , but last night wasn’t a lie. That’s one thing he’s confident about.

Erik’s getting dressed, but he’s not packing.

-

 

(Erik)

 

He feels like kicking himself repeatedly too. Charles’ sister wouldn’t be to blame. He’s dating a guy he just met. They slept together. Are they even dating?

His boss won’t be happy when he calls to tell him he can’t continue working. He’s not happy about it either, but as things stand  he can either leave and put everything behind him, or he can continue working as Charles’ bodyguard and pretend he’s not emotionally compromised and physically attracted to his client. What in the world made him think he could just put his past aside and ignore a psychic? In retrospect he can’t blame himself for not knowing how badly Charles’ presence would affect him. No one’s ever been that… _visible_ to him.

Before accepting this job he’d been dreaming of revenge, something entirely out of his reach. Perhaps he was hoping to enter Charles’ world and discover something that could lead to Schmidt and Frost. Perhaps he wanted to believe not everyone could do what they’d done to his mother. Perhaps, on the other hand, he needed confirmation that he’d been right all along.

There’s a third option: he stays as a friend and whatever happens _happens_. At the very least it leaves him with more time to think, to plan ahead. The auction is not for a couple of days yet.

He watches Charles get dressed and move to the desk to read. It doesn’t take the telepath very long to cut himself off from his surroundings, from Erik. Every once in a while he makes some notes or signs something.

Erik calls the boys, lets them know what’s up. He’d say they’re as confused as he is, but that’s hardly possible.

“There is no way we’re explaining this.”

“I’ll take care of it,” he tells them. They seem to be okay with that.

He puts the phone back in his pocket and stops beside Charles’ desk. Erik waits for the man to look up at him.

“I’m not still here out of some weird sense of obligation,” he says.

“Okay.”

“I have a feeling you can take care of yourself.”

 _Given what you can do_. _Even if I still don’t fully understand how any of that works_.

“Why _are_ you staying?” Charles asks.

“I’m not sure. Wish I was. I didn’t see any of this coming.”

“Did you send Alex and Darwin home?”

“I did,” he confirms.

“You could be my plus one,” Charles blurts out. “You know, the auction.”

He nods. “I think I’d like that.”

Charles smiles at him then continues working knowing fully well neither of them has anything to add to that. They’ll find the words when they find them, he hopes..

 

-

 

“I’m going for a walk, stretch my legs,” Charles announces six phone calls and tons of paperwork later. A bit he’d said; even Erik has a bloody headache, by proxy.

Erik holds up his hand. He’ll check the hallway first if anything.

“I sincerely hope you don’t treat all of your dates like this.”

He glares at Charles even if the chuckle warms his heart just a little. “Only those with their very own collection of death threats, and we’re not on a date yet.”

“Two’s hardly a collection.”

He simply blinks at that statement. “Two? I thought it was just one.”

“Well, the first one doesn’t count.”

“Why’s that?”

“It’s a long story that happened a very long time ago and… I may have deserved it.”

“I doubt it.” He decides to ignore that for now and file it for later interrogative conversations.

“Okay, coast is clear. If you want to go out we’re doing it now.”

“Yes, sir. You realise that technically you don’t have to do any of this anymore, right?”

“Oh but I will because clearly you’re not a responsible adult.”

Charles smirks, then kidnaps him to the roof.

They’re probably not supposed to be up there, but the gorgeous view doesn’t seem to mind their presence. Charles grabs his hand and draws him closer to the edge of the building from where they can see most of the city.

"That's just... hideous," he comments.

"Terribly dull. I’m happy you agree."

They smile, stand there for a while as if the world around them never really mattered. The fresh air helps clear his head, but it refuses to give him an answer to the riddle standing right beside him.

"Okay, I'm getting cold now," Charles says after nearly twenty minutes of just standing there, enjoying the quiet and the view. "I think I can go back to work now. Thank you, Erik. This was... nice."

It seems as if the words he keeps looking for are mostly unspoken ones. For now they're enough.

 

-

 

He can't say what unsettles him first when they get back to the hotel room. There's just something not right, a gut feeling.  He checks everything he can check, comes up empty.

"No one's been here while we were out," Charles tries to reassure him. "Honestly. I'd be able to tell."

He doesn't ask how, by now he knows, knows enough.

“See? The view is far less impressive through a window,” Charles notes, points a finger to stress his statement.

“Yeah, yeah.” It’s still an impressive view despite their location.

The shattering glass takes him by surprise and Charles falls down before he can tell him to duck or push the button to close the blinds. _What the hell just happened?_

His training kicks in as he turns on the lights and grabs his phone from the nightstand. Erik dials 999 on automatic pilot before rushing to Charles who hasn’t moved much from his position on the floor near the window.

He tells the operator to send an ambulance and blurts out the word sniper as well. He speed dials Alex right after, putting his phone on speaker and dropping it on the floor beside him.

Charles is still on the floor leaning against the wall and pressing a towel to his leg.

“Where did you get that?”

Charles’ eyes shoot fire. “Now’s really not the time to-”

“Never mind, let me,” he cuts in. He doesn’t take no for an answer as he takes over and adds extra pressure. He’s not surprised when Charles slams his hand on the carpet beside them. He is, however, very surprised by the colourful string of curses that follows.

“Ambulance is on its way,” he offers. Then turns to the voice on his phone calling his name.

“Alex, you there?”

“Yeah, what’s going on?”

“Please tell me you’re still here.”

“Yeah, man. You two okay?”

“Sniper. Charles took a bullet to the leg. I need you and Darwin to take charge, get the ambulance crew up here. They should be here in a few minutes.”

“We’re quite okay, Alex. Thank you,” Charles adds, a little breathless.

Erik glares at him before hanging up. He presses just a little bit harder on the towel.

Charles grits his teeth. “Sadist.”

“You asked for it.”

“I… most certainly did not.”

He keeps an eye on the bleeding.

“I’m not going to run out of blood anytime soon, Erik.”

Charles is going for some levity, fails.

“And you would know that _how_ exactly?”

He agrees with Charles assessment though, it could’ve been so much worse.

He doesn’t comment on the dark chuckle he gets in reply.

“Lousy aim,” Charles says, because he would say something like that.

Throwing a glance at the three bullet holes in the wall next to them, he has to admit lousy aim doesn’t quite cover this fiasco.

“Or you got down in time.”

“Not quite. I wouldn’t be opposed to getting out of the glass.”

“Okay, just to the bed,” he relents, as long as they’re moving away from the now blinded window. “One, two,…”

He’s going to have to remind Charles about the foul language later on; it’s too impressive not to.

His phone buzzes. _Sent them up_ , Alex’ text reads.

“They’re here, so you can tell them how fine you are.”

“Truly, Erik.”

“Stop right there,” he warns. He’s relieved they’re finally here. He just got decades older in a span of mere minutes.

“Would you mind calling Moira?”

For some unknown reason that sounds worse than the apocalypse. “You’re _fine_ , you call her.”

“Hate you,” Charles mutters under his breath.

“I love you too.”

The medics are gentle but every time Charles shows any sign of distress Erik finds himself tensing up. “I’m coming along.” And that is that.

“Stop scaring them, Erik. It’s flattering, but unnecessary.”

He only lets Charles out of his sight when they whisk him off to surgery. Reluctantly, he calls Moira himself. For a brief moment he considers delegating the call to Alex or Darwin, but then he’d have to face an angry Charles too.

“Mactaggert.”

He is doomed and it’s only noon. Wonderful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always: if you can, let me know what you think. Thank you for the support so far. It's really appreciated.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This took me forever and I'm really sorry about that. I was in London for a while and at a friend's place for even longer (without my laptop). Here's the funny part: I lost all of my progress. Buuut, apart from this taking longer than I want it to take (because I need to rewrite what I had on my computer instead of moving forward), the story should remain the same. I do apologise if future updates take longer. Anyway, hope you like this chapter and thank you for commenting. I really appreciate it.

(Erik)

 

He can stay up all night and not feel a thing. It’s not the first time he’s been awake for hours on end. The only difference is that this time his body wouldn’t let him sleep even if he wanted to.

Erik can’t let his guard down in a place like this. The walls are too white, the chair he’s sitting in too hard and he could really use some caffeine at this point. Alex and Sean have already fallen asleep in the chairs across from him. How they managed that is beyond him. Darwin smiles sympathetically when he looks up. Clearly these three have a better understanding of what he’s feeling than he does.

They might be taking turns keeping an eye on him, so he doesn’t end up in prison for beating up the hospital staff. He doesn’t see himself as a violent individual per se, but he wouldn’t be against practising his right hook at this point. He could probably make it hurt without causing too much damage.

Charles wouldn’t approve of that. He laughs, literally laughs at the thought.

“You okay, man?” Darwin asks.

It’s a stupid question, of course he’s not. In fact, he might be losing his marbles if he ever had any. He nods, but doesn’t speak. He focuses on taking a deep breath instead.

It shouldn’t be taking this long.

But then: he doesn’t really know how long this is supposed to take because no one is telling him anything. _We’ll tell you as soon as we know_ , they promise. The words don’t calm him down one bit. He gets up, starts pacing the waiting area.

The poster on the wall smiles at him. It’s one of those instructional posters for kids on how to brush your teeth. Erik assumes someone put it there to mock him. Charles would have one look at it and file it under the label hilarious.

He’s spoken with the police, but doesn’t want to think about any of that yet. He’s called Moira too of course. She wasn’t nearly as furious as expected. She told him to stay with Charles while she took care of some things and booked a flight. She sounded resigned as if she’d known all along this would happen. Someone could’ve brought him up to speed, but no, he happens to be the only one who seems to be missing something here. What exactly that is, he doesn’t have the slightest idea.

Erik heads to the toilet just to throw some water in his face and have a fight with both the tap and the handsoap.

_Calm the fuck down, Lehnsherr._

Coffee, he just needs some decent coffee.

He has an entirely logical argument with the coffee machine as well. With the offending plastic coffee cup in hand (plus one for Darwin) he makes his way back to the waiting area where Darwin is still awake and staring at a magazine.

“I brought more caffeine,” he offers before putting the cup down on the small table in the middle of the room.

It’s not like him not to respond.

“Darwin?”

“I’m sorry. I found an article about Charles in this.”

He frowns at that. “Do I even want to know?”

“It’s pretty decent… decent enough,” the young man says, handing over the magazine and taking the plastic cup. “This doesn’t look like coffee,” he comments. “Looks like black water.”

“The machine didn’t like me.”

Erik settles back down and starts reading. He’s not sure if that’s the best idea, but maybe it’ll keep him from going completely crazy in here.

_Did you know?_

_Charles Francis Xavier holds Ph.Ds in genetics, biophysics, psychology and anthropology. Furthermore-_

Erik stops himself; he can’t read this, not to mention this monthly magazine is older than his grandmother.

“Skip to the last paragraph,” Darwin says, not even bothering to look up from his own reading material, a magazine on natural selection of all things. Erik doesn’t comment, takes another deep breath and leans back again. Comfort is the least of his worries, but he wouldn’t mind a soft pillow right about now.

The last paragraph consists out of a small thank you, courtesy of the interviewer, and a summary of her experience meeting Charles.

_I’d be lying to my readers if I said I wasn’t the least bit impressed. Don’t get me wrong, from the get-go I knew to expect blinding charm. That sounds about as silly as I was feeling when I shook his hand. To be completely honest none of my interviews go entirely as planned. This one wasn’t an exception. I believe in logic and science even though I appreciate how clever a good stage act can be. I’ll start with my answer and I’ll be honest with you: I don’t know. As much as I want to confirm your hunches or doubts; it’s really not that simple. Charles Xavier knows details about you you don’t and quite frankly I find that an uncanny sort of gift to begin with. I can’t tell if that’s years of experience reading people or an actual crazy ability. What’s for sure is that I wouldn’t play a game of Texas Hold ‘em with him. I asked him if he’s the real deal and he didn’t deny or confirm. In fact he told me to decide for myself. I’m inclined to believe he’s an interesting man with more up his sleeve than he lets on.While I will probably never rely on a psychic to help me out, I now know who to ring if push ever comes to shove anyway. If anything you’ll get honesty the kind you may not get at your psychic next door. I’d like to thank my editor for letting me go on a limb with this and of course Dr. Charles Xavier for allowing me a peek into his life._

“Why am I reading this garbage?” he asks Darwin.

“Apart from distracting you? It’s like she says. Charles does put up an act, perhaps so people will underestimate him. He seems pretty strong and stubborn. I also happen to know he has a thing for his security detail.”

 _If that’s not worth fighting for_ … goes unspoken.

“That’d better not mean you slept with him.”

Darwin smiles. “He’s all yours.”

“Thanks,” he mutters. _When did that become a relaxing thought?_

“You’re welcome and I mean every word. Look, I’m gonna go look for more of that black water. You want some?”

“No, I think I’ll pass.” He still has a fair amount of disgusting goo in his own cup.

He doesn’t know how, but he manages to dose off for a little while. By the time he wakes up and succeeds in opening his eyes Sean is staring at him and Alex is awake too, whispering something to Darwin. They spend the next forty-five minutes in understanding silence. That’s how long it takes for Charles’ doctor to make his appearance. Finally.

“Mr. Lehnsherr? I’m  Doctor David Brandt, Charles Xavier ‘s surgeon.”

Erik frowns at the direct address but jumps up at the sound of his name anyway and shakes the man’s hand.

Erik estimates Doctor Brandt is in his early forties. He looks a bit older with the bags under his eyes and the grey streak in his black hair, but it’s only fair to detract a few years given the man’s turbulent profession. He has a certain amount of wisdom about him, the kind that can’t be fake. Erik has an eye for that sort of thing. That doesn’t mean he’s going to go soft on the man though.

“I’m Erik Lehnsherr,” he says, gesturing to the three boys as well. “Sean, Alex and Armando.”

Brandt nods and waits for him to sit down again before taking a seat as well, making sure all four of them can clearly hear what he has to say.

“I’ll start by saying Charles should make a full recovery.”

That’s his first mistake.

“Should?” He hopes he doesn’t sound as desperate or threatening as he feels. No, that's a lie, he _does_ hope he sounds that threatening, or threatening enough.

“It’s still early and he’s lost a lot of blood. We had to insert a nail to treat the femur fracture. While we’re talking about considerable tissue and bone damage I don’t see why he shouldn’t make a full recovery with the right care. Right now all we can do is wait and see how he responds to the treatment, and keep an eye on him for signs of infection.”

It hadn’t looked like considerable damage. He should’ve seen that. Why didn’t he see that? Charles had been joking yet it turns out it’s not just a flesh wound. Realisation dawns on him then. He’d felt in control and calm, especially for someone sitting across from a loved one with a bullet hole in his leg. Erik’s torn between admiring Charles’ ability to hide the severity of his wound and smacking himself in the head for not seeing through the whole façade. He’s going to make sure Charles knows how he feels about that. No one manipulates him and gets away with it unscathed. He slams down the urge to growl, the worry too persistent.

“He’s stable now, but I’m afraid I can’t let you in to see him yet. I’d like you all to go home, get some rest and return in the morning.”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Alex states, earning glances from both the doctor and Erik.

“I’m afraid I’m going to have to agree with Alex on this, I’m not going anywhere either.”

The doctor sighs. “I was afraid you’d say that.”

He’ll sleep when he’s dead and as far as he can see that time hasn’t come yet. He expects further argument but gets none. Apparently Brandt can tell when a patient’s loved ones don’t plan on budging. _Good for him_.

“I’ll tell the nurses to keep you up to speed. I’ll see you three in the morning.”

“Thank you,” he manages, shaking Brandt’s hand again.

He waits for Brandt to leave before pacing around the room.

“Erik?”

He hears Darwin’s voice but ignores it.

“Erik!”

“Yes?! What is it?”

“Calm down, dude.” Alex helps out, by not helping at all.

“Charles lied to all of us. He told us it wasn’t that bad.”

Alex laughs. “And that’s definitely not something you would do.”

“That’s not my point,” he replies.

“He wasn’t lying,” Sean speaks for the first time that night. The kid looks tired and very worried. Another thing he should’ve seen earlier. Perhaps he isn’t all that nocturnal after all.

“How so?”

“It’s hard to explain,” the redhead offers. “It’s more like denial? He doesn’t do it on purpose, if that makes you feel any better.”

That really doesn’t make any of it better at all. He sinks down in the green chair again and presses his eyes closed

 

 

(Charles)

 

His body aches, his entire body with his leg taking the lead. Maybe if he begged for mercy his limb would calm down and listen. Bloody hell, at this point he wouldn’t say no to a couple of painkillers, definitely not. Someone shot him in the leg, he remembers that. It explains the pain at least.

He manages to open his eyes for a little bit, sees a lady with groovy red hair whom he guesses is a nurse here. He must be in hospital. At least he hopes hotels don’t smell of antiseptics quite like this.

_Erik. Where’s Erik?_

She asks him a question but his reply consists out of his body going limp and giving in to sleep. How terribly rude of him. He didn’t even introduce himself.

 

\--

 

He stays awake much longer the second time, at least five full seconds: a new world record. No one’s there. He drifts off again as the drugs pull him under.  

 

\--

 

No one will shut up, he hates hospitals. By now he’s in between dreaming and waking up and not knowing the difference very well.

 

\--

 

He gets more questions; he might even remember them later on.

“Can you tell me where you are?”

He finds that an odd question. “You… don’t know?”

The doctor laughs, tries another question. “Do you remember what happened?”

He does, he _thinks_ , in weird flashes. His leg still hurts, but he manages a nod. His throat feels dry as well. “Erik? The boys?” he asks. He’s sure the doctor’s introduced himself at some point, but he can’t remember. Something tells him this man has been talking about more than just his name tag.

“They’re fine, waiting for you to wake up. I finally managed to send them home for a bit, but I’m certain they’ll return before they get enough rest. You should get some more sleep until then.”

Charles is not going to decline that offer. He thinks the doctor sounds tired and a bit tormented. Erik’s work, probably. He’s strangely proud and feels a warm flutter in his chest at the thought.

 

\--

 

His head feels much clearer. Unfortunately that means the damage to his leg feels more real too. The worry he senses is not just his own. He latches on to the familiar mind close to him, receiving the desired response.

“Charles?”

_Warmth. Worry. Love. Safety._

_Hello, Erik_. He sends that directly to Erik’s mind.

 _Rage_ , but not the kind he ought to be worried about. Erik wouldn’t harm him.

Feeling safe, he pushes his eyelids open and sees the hospital room for the first time. The other first few times don’t count.

Erik’s sitting in the chair closest to his bed, currently turning creepy staring into an art form.

“I’m okay,” he offers.

“How do _you_ know?”

He realises he doesn’t. “Am I?” He hopes the puppy look still works.

Erik rolls his eyes. “You’re going to be fine.”

“That’s good.” His throat is still dry. He looks around the room for some water, spots a pitcher on the table near the window.

“Don’t move,” Erik orders, reading his mind and heading to the table to pour him a drink.

“Where would I move?”

“The floor probably.”

Erik’s a comedian, he just doesn’t quite realise it, a talent lost to the world. He watches Erik pour the water into a plastic cup. “Slow sips,” he orders, then returns to the bedside to help him.

“Thank you, Erik.” He pauses. “Not just for the water. You saved my life.”

“Someone has to look out for you, since you’re incapable of doing that yourself.”

Still a bit on the hostile side then.   
  
“This was hardly my fault,” he reminds Erik.

“Get some rest. You’re safe. You’ve convinced the police they need to keep an eye out. Your own personal security.”

“I’d rather have you.”

“Go to sleep,” Erik repeats. It takes longer for Erik’s next words to reach his hearing. “I’m not going anywhere.”  
  
He feels a warm strong hand on top of his own and knows right away he’ll be okay.


	8. Chapter 8

(Erik)

Erik's agreed to go home, get some rest and one long shower. Charles was specific about the duration of the latter: no one should smell worse than the odour of hospital. Charles insisted he was getting there, the man is eloquent and pushy like that. Erik doesn't actually smell, they both know it, but when his... boyfriend has a point, he has a point.

He does exactly that. He sleeps for longer than intended and takes a shower that will single-showerheadedly raise his water bill to unseen territory.

His apartment isn't big, but it has everything he needs; except, these days he's not so sure about that anymore. There's this idiot who keeps messing with his feelings. Who knew he could fall head over heels in a matter of days?

He imagines Charles would like his collection of books. Erik can almost see him there browsing the shelf for something only Charles would pick. Fuck, he needs to get back, but not before he gives Alex and Darwin a call with an update and allows himself some food. He makes himself an omelet and even does the dishes, but those are the final straw. As soon as he feels the urge to just throw them in the bin he knows he has to leave.

He tries to calm down and pretend he's not in a hurry when he heads back to the hospital and nearly trips over a pair of his shoes on his way out of his apartment. At least no one can see how he fumbles with his keys. Erik makes a short stop for coffee while he can, hoping he won't need any sleep soon.

Of course, out of all people he spots Moira MacTaggert at the coffee machine about to put coins in the blasted piece of garbage.

“Don't,” he warns her. “I made that mistake a few days ago.”

She looks up and gives him the once-over. “Erik Lehnsherr,” she says, sounding neutral enough. He figures his hide is safe for the time being. Unlike her reputation implies she does do civil conversation.

“Here, have mine,” he offers, handing over his Starbucks cup. The woman probably needs it more than he does after her flight. He guesses she's just arrived.

“Buying me off?” she wonders.

“Is it working?”

Moira smiles. “You know, I believe it is.”

“I expected you'd be tearing Charles' head off.”

“I was, but that can wait. I do like a fair fight. Two police officers are in there now, asking him some questions. I'm sure he's having fun.” The sarcasm is obvious.

He nods. “They already grilled me. I doubt Charles will be able to tell them much more. I usually know who wants to kill me.”

He wishes he hadn't put it like that and could just swallow his words.

“Usually?” She sips from the coffee, interest piqued.

“You know what I mean?”

Apparently she does, as she decides to change the subject and let him off the hook for now.

“I gave them all they need. If they need to know when Charles lost his first tooth, it's in there.”

He looks at her with a steadily rising amount of admiration. “Shall we go see if they're done yet?” Erik lets her lead the way.

They arrive just in time to see Doctor Brandt exchange a few words with one of the officers. It looks as if they're nearly done talking.

“Everything okay?” he asks the man.

Brandt gives him a smile. “As well as could be expected at this point, perhaps a little better. I was just helping this gentleman. You can go in now. He's tired but eager to see the two of you.”

Erik nods his thanks before pushing the door open.

 

 

 

(Charles) 

The last thing he tells the police officers is to say hi to Hank for him. Clearly the world is always even smaller than expected. Apparently they know the young scientist very well and they promise to pass on the message as soon as they see him. He also adds that Hank shouldn't worry. He's fine, _truly_.

“He's still going to worry,” they say. Charles knows that to be true, it's in the young man's nature to care about others. Doctor Brandt, whom Charles thinks is a pleasant individual willing to go the extra mile for his patients, comes in to check on him. That level of commitment is something he doesn't take for granted.

He closes his eyes and nearly doses off, the only thing between him and (hopefully) a dream about one very underdressed Erik is the door opening again to reveal the exact stuff his dreams are made of and his dear friend Moira. The two seem to be on a similar page, which just doesn't bode well for him.

Charles is sitting up, bed slightly elevated to help him feel a bit more human and awake.

“Erik thinks I should tear your head off now,” Moira starts, coming to stand beside his bed, so he can clearly see the look on her face, the one that says she's not kidding.

“That's not-” Erik stops when she throws him a similar look.

Charles can only sympathise. “If you're going to tear my head off now would be good. The headache's getting a bit annoying.”

“Oh no, you don't get to play the sympathy card.”

Charles thinks he's earned _that_ at least, thank you very much.

Meanwhile Erik's wise decision seems to be to sit down in the chair near the window, far away from the erupting volcano called Moira, the bloody coward.

Clearly Moira said something else while his mind was _otherwise occupied_.

“You are unbelievable. Did you even catch a word of what I just said?”

He's sure he looks apologetic. She deserves that. It's just that Erik is fucking distracting. Also, that jacket he hasn't dared remove yet under Moira's angry gaze should be entirely illegal.

“Someone tried to _kill_ you.”

“The operational word being _tried_ , love. I feel pretty alive.”

In fact he's feeling very alive and Erik's presence is not helping in that regard.

“ _Un_ believable,” she repeats. “I'm out of here. Since apparently I'm the only grown-up here I'm going to make sure they don't come back for seconds.”

For a split second he wonders how she's going to manage that, but given that she's Moira MacTaggert he's not terribly worried she won't find a way.

She points a finger at Erik, who looks increasingly uncomfortable.

“ _You_ don't let him out of your sight.”

She walks out of the room without another word.

Charles laughs. “You can remove your jacket, it's safe now.”

He does exactly that as he moves to the chair next to the bed, where he can grab Charles' hand.

“Was that really necessary? She's just worried. I'm pretty worried,” he admits.

“I know,” he says. “So am I, you can trust me on that. I'm definitely worried. As for Moira, that's pretty much how we communicate.” He laughs then. “And you haven't even met my sister yet. You're in for some fun.”

He can tell there's something else on Erik's mind too. “What's wrong? I mean: _what else_ is wrong?”

Erik's still holding his hand when he looks him directly in the eyes.

“I'd like you to be honest with me. If we're moving forward you're going to be in my head more often than not.”

“I could teach you shielding techniques if that's what you're worried about, Erik. I would never-”

“Shh, no. That's not the point. I like you, Charles. I like you a lot and by now I know that being with you takes a certain amount of open-mindedness, but in a good way. I _think_. I do want to do that. It's just that when you got shot you... I don't really know what it is you did, but my memories seem pretty skewed.”

“Sorry about that,” Charles says. “I didn't influence you on purpose. I was focusing so hard on making myself believe that everything was okay that I may have transmitted that feeling to you. I'm usually in control of whatever I do, but I've never felt this... _connected_ to anyone before and I think I may have lost some control over the boundary between the two of us?”

He wants to put a sock in it now, because finding the right balance between talking and shutting the hell up doesn't seem to be happening soon.

Erik snorts. “That sounds like one sappy romantic comedy I really shouldn't be in the middle of.”

“I slipped and it shouldn't happen again, now that I know what to watch out for. And I really don't plan on getting shot again if I can help it.”

“You'd better.”

Erik's hand slips under Charles blanket only to stop and rest near Charles' side where his left thigh meets his hip.

“Er, Erik?”

His finger traces an imaginary line from Charles' hip bone further to the middle.

“Erik? I'm not sure if this... As much as I want- Erik?”

“You're adorable when you squirm,” Erik says.

“I...” Charles continues stumbling for words, earning a huge grin from Erik.

“You're forgiven,” Erik adds, drawing his hand back.

“ _You_ , mister, are such a tease.”

“The only thing that's keeping me from devouring you is that hole in your other thigh.”

“We could pretend it's not there?” Charles offers, ready to change his mind and let Erik take him right there.

He gets more laughter in return as the older man gets up from his chair and kisses him on the mouth, lingering just a bit.

“Evil. But, yes, very nice,” Charles comments on the action.

“How's the pain?” Erik asks, growing serious for a minute.

“Bearable at the moment. It's been worse. I figure that has to be a good sign.”

“Or very good drugs,” Erik supplies.

“Yes, there's that.” He's starting to feel sleepy again. It's a miracle he's stayed awake this long. “Kiss me goodnight?” he requests.

Erik does.

 


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a pain in the butt (and I already had most of it for ages). Sorry this took about two centuries. I'm embarrassed and I'm worried there may be more delays in the future, but I am working on this and plan to bloody finish it. It's just going to take a while. Motivational pokes are welcome as always (and to be honest I'm happy most people who read this don't think it's a total waste of their time). Thanks for all the support so far and hope you continue to enjoy. My apologies if you find any annoying spelling or grammatical errors.

(Charles)

 

In between physical therapy, learning how to use the crutches the hospital provided and ignoring Erik's insistence he ought to join a travelling circus, Charles has some nightmares he'd rather not share with anyone. Quite frankly they're disturbing. The night before he dreamed about killing a man in cold blood. Even after getting shot it all seems a bit too violent for his standards, but then, he supposes he's never been in control of his own dreams.

Erik is by his side as much as he can. The only reason he leaves is to get some proper sleep, shower and get some food that doesn't turn his stomach. The hospital food isn't that terrible, but it's definitely not hard to get sick of the regular menus.

He and Erik manage well enough, and hopefully for not much longer. He's going to go home as soon as they let him. Charles finds comfort in knowing Erik is right there and Erik's calmed down enough not to suspect a hitman around every corner.

“My hand still hurts,” Charles complains, frowning a bit while flexing the appendage. They have the most ludicrous conversations, followed by things you would only tell someone very dear, as if they've known each other a lot longer.

“Really? I wouldn't have guessed.” Clearly that's the only reply Erik's going to dignify that statement with. It's sort of funny, he guesses, given that he spent the last few days with a swollen leg and on pretty good pain meds. His hand hurts, never mind everything else that nearly killed him.

“I-” Charles opens his mouth as if to add something, then immediately shuts it again and frowns in contemplation. “Why?” he manages after throwing another confused look in Erik's direction.

“You're saying you don't remember?”

Charles tries to remember. “I don't think I do?”

“You'll find one hotel carpet will likely sue you for battery and assault. It wasn't pretty, the poor thing is still lying there, motionless,” he deadpans.

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh. Didn't know you could curse like that.”

“Only when I can't help myself.”

“Which must be often enough, if your elaborate vocabulary is anything to go by.”

Charles frowns when Erik gets up and starts pulling the sheets back. He's been out of bed a few times now but this is the first time Erik's taking the initiative.

“What's this?” Charles asks when Erik retrieves the wheelchair and parks it next to the bed for easy transfer.

“A wheelchair.”

“Aren't you in a funny mood today.”

“Only when I can't help myself,” he throws back before adding, “I'm allowed since I have to put up with you.”

Charles' curiousity gets the better of him.

“Okay. Where are we going?”

“We're going to have dinner downstairs. I _OK_ ed it.”

“Like a date?”

Erik rolls his eyes.

“What is this, twenty questions? I doubt it'll be much of a date with Moira's new security detail watching our every move.”

“Right. We could try to ditch them? Make a daring escape?”

“No.”

“Bubble burster. You're only fun when it's your idea.”

“I'm never _fun_ ,” Erik counters, supporting Charles as he makes his move to the wheelchair. It takes a bit of manoeuvring, but once settled and comfortable, Erik decides he's the designated driver. It's for the best, Charles knows. Right now he would only crash into every object along the way, for the sake of giving Erik a heart attack alone.

“You're just in denial,” Charles says, a little breathless now.

Charles has no idea where Moira got these new security guys, but apparently they owe her big time and are well connected. They seem like nice men, if a little stiff and perhaps a bit odd. Charles has already taken to calling them Tweedledee and Tweedledum in private and he knows Erik can't entirely blame him, Erik wouldn't deal well with their presence either. They follow them to the cafetaria like really bad shadows. They're not there to be subtle; they're there to keep Charles' behind out of trouble. Those were Moira's exact words.

Erik picks a table for Charles and himself and looks entirely too grateful when their two shadows pick a table of their own, allowing them some privacy.

“I'm going to get us some food.”

 

 

(Erik)

The cafetaria is far from crowded at least, something that bodes well enough.

His little escape to the food corner takes about fifteen minutes and Erik knows the estimation is an overstatement. He shouldn't be surprised that it is long enough for Charles to draw attention to himself. By the time he gets back to the table at least three people have come by to wish him well (Erik hopes, because if they were interested in a reading Erik is going to hunt them down) and there's a bloody vase on the table with flowers in it, the overly nice kind. At least Tweedledee and Tweedledum are gathering around the sight like vultures. Without spilling anything he grabs the tray and heads back planning to get rid of the remaining fans.

_It's okay, Erik. These people mean no harm._

The words enter his mind before he can open his mouth to tell them to get lost.

 _Be nice_.

Instead he gives them a slight acknowledging nod and shoves the plate with food in front of Charles.

“We should let you eat,” the woman says, not ushering her son away just yet. The boy, around 16 and on crutches, looks shy to say the least. Perhaps it's embarrassment. The kid's the only reason he allows the interaction. Not that he takes pity on people, but there's something about the boy which seems harmless, calming even.

He's more surprised 'dum and 'dee seem to be okay with the whole thing. He should really learn their names. He hasn't even bothered greeting them properly. They even return to their table, probably knowing fully well he'll be doing their job for them if necessary.

“It's quite alright, I don't mind. _Je vais vous aider_. Did I get that right?”

She literally beams and nods and Erik feels lost and more than a bit on edge. He's going to have to get used to this side of Charles too even though he's seen far beyond the whole charm.

And where in the world did he learn French?

_From you, actually. Just a bit._

The woman gives her son a little nudge forward as Charles motions for him to sit down in the chair next to him.

_I'll explain in a minute._

He's not entirely sure what Charles means by that. He waits anxiously, sits down himself and watches Charles whisper some things to the boy before receiving a nod.

“Okay, close your eyes.”

And if that isn't just the most-

_Before you call me out on clichés,... Well, don't._

Yes, meeting and dating one Charles Xavier is the best idea he's had in ages. The only problem is that he doesn't regret it. In fact, he enjoys the way Charles' mind brushes against his. The last few days have been eye openers.

 _So do I_.

 _Shouldn't you be-_ he sends back

_Shhh... I'm trying to concentrate._

It takes less than a minute from that point on.

“Okay, you should be able to put weight on that leg now.”

The process is slow, but the kid's leg doesn't give out on him, nor does it seem to hurt as he takes some steps. The mother responds by gripping Charles' right hand in a strong clasp.

“Thank you. Thank you so much.”

“You're very welcome."

Erik watches them leave then turns to Charles to realise the blue eyes are already on him.

“Want to explain why you're not just healing your own leg as well?”

“I didn't heal anything, Erik.”

He remains silent, waits for Charles to continue.

“Physically anyway. The boy's injury was entirely psychosomatic. I merely helped him tear down some walls in his mind. So to speak.”

In reply Erik takes his own plate off the tray and points at Charles' dinner. “Eat.”

Charles blinks at him for entirely too long before digging in himself.

“You realise people are staring and you really shouldn't be drawing attention to yourself?”

“It's not as if my bodyguards are entirely inconspicious. Neither are you, my friend.”

“Eat,” Erik repeats, but he has to admit it's great to see Charles smile like that in return.

Charles takes a bite from one of the overcooked carrots. “I must admit I had slightly higher expectations for our first real date. That little escapade on the roof hardly counts.”

“I take it the cuisine's not to your liking?”

Charles leans forward a bit and whispers: “It's not quite Michelin-worthy and the service leaves quite a few things to be desired.”

They both throw a spontaneous look at the cart for the dirty dishes before grinning.

“One out of ten would recommend,”Charles adds.

“Who's that?”

“The exception to every rule?” He shrugs.

Erik supposes that's fair, given Charles is pretty much an exception to every rule in his book.

 

 

(Charles)

“I like thinking I can get out of here soon. According to Dr Brandt it's not even wishful thinking.”

He stuffs his mouth with mashed potatoes.

He can't wait to go home. He's quite certain Erik's noticed his antsy behaviour by now. There's only one bit of a problem there. Home's back in New York. He still owns a house in the country here, but it's far from ready for any proper use. He hasn't been there for ages. They moved to New York when his mother Sharon remarried.

Perhaps he could go back to the hotel.

“How did the hotel manager take it?” he asks Erik, knowing fully well he's not as up to speed as he'd like.

“He seemed pretty pleased after Moira talked to him.”

“I'm broke, aren't I?” he jokes.

“I think that's the least of your worries.”

“We can go back to the hotel then?”

Erik laughs. “He was pleased, but not that pleased, Charles.”

“In that case I may need to make some phone calls.”

“No, you don't. You're staying at my place until you're ready to travel back. Moira agrees.”

“Oh.”

“Yes, oh,” Erik mimicks.

“That's quite wonderful. Thank you, Erik.”

“Why would you want to go back to the hotel. Did someone drop you as a baby?”

“Twice.”

He knows Erik can't tell if he's kidding or not. He plans on leaving it like that.

 

–

 

Hank visits in the late afternoon, near the end of visiting hours. The young man looks a bit shell shocked in Charles' humble opinion.

“I can't believe they asked for my shoe size, mother's maiden name and birthday, even after I showed them my ID.”

That would explain the deer-caught-in-headlight expression on the young man's face.

Erik, of course, grins at that. “I'm beginning to like them.”

“Honestly, Erik. I think I need to have a word with Moira. Sorry, Hank.”

“They're probably bored. Don't take it personally,” Erik adds.

“I erm... brought you what you asked for.”

Charles can practically hear Erik's brain creakas he puts two and two together.

“That's the damn bullet, isn't it?”

He'd given Hank the call when Erik was out for a meal. His intention hadn't been to do that behind his back. He'd been bored and more than a little anxious and willing to move things forward. He makes sure Erik catches that thought too.

“Yes,” he admits, accepting the paper bag from a frightened Hank.

“And this seemed like a good idea? Rhetorical, don't answer that.”

“It didn't seem like a bad one?” Charles offers anyway.

“I'm staying right here,” Erik adds.

“I'd very much like you by my side while I do this, Erik.”

_Please don't doubt that because I'm an idiot sometimes._

“Yes, you are,” Erik replies out loud, glaring at him just a bit.

“Are you up for this, Charles?”

“I'm okay, Hank. I'm getting out of here soon.”

Those words seem convincing enough for the young scientist.

He squeezes Erik's hand before opening the small paper bag and fishing out what's left of the bullet. “I might not even get anything.”

“I was hoping you would so we can put this whole thing behind us.”

“Thank you.” _For understanding, and everything else_.

“That doesn't mean I'm not worried. And so is Hank.”

He lightly touches the bullet with his index finger. It sends a shiver down his spine but not much more. Closing his eyes, he takes a deep breath and concentrates. They're just some flashes he gets, but they will do as a starting point. It's better than anything they have so far.

“Charles?” Hank's voice prompts him to open his eyes again.

He allows himself another deep breath and a glance at Erik who looks just about as constipated as Hank. He smiles at the thought.

“Our sniper goes by the name Ace.”

“What did you see?”

“Not much, just got some vague impressions. I believe there might be a connection to the Hellfire Club, though.”

“The one in Vegas?” Hank asks.

“You were in Vegas?”

“For about a month,” Charles answers Erik's query before continuing. “I think I saw akeychain, a little red devil. Someone was with him, watching his back. I'm sorry, that's all.” He hands the evidence bag back to Hank.

“That's more than we had so far. It's as good as any place to start digging.”

 _Officially or unofficially_ , Charles thinks.

“I'm sorry I can't stay longer, but give me a call if you need anything, okay?”

“Yes, of course. Thank you so much, Hank.”

He shrugs. “It's the least I can do.”

“He'll be staying at my place. Charles will forward you my address. Drop by whenever you want.”

Hank smiles sheepishly in reply. “No need, I already have it.”

“Genius,” Charles whispers, watching the young man turn into a tomato.

“I will see you two soon.”

“Yes! Thank you again, Hank.”

Erik opens his mouth as soon as the door closes. “I'm going to guess working for the police has its perks?”

“Yes.”

“Wonderful and not daunting at all.”

“And you were worried about the bad guys?”

 


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some fluff, before I move forward. (This fic is not letting me write it the way I want to, I really hope you still enjoy.)   
> Spelling and grammar crimes are still mine.

(Charles)

 

The dreams continue, some nights more violent than usual and other times they feel like his subconscious is crying out for help. The feeling of guilt that comes along with the latter seems to contradict the whole idea of killing for revenge. Not to mention his head has never felt this out of place before. He chalks it up to meds and the lack of familiar surroundings. Charles won't let those nightmares spoil his day, though. Erik's taking him home and nothing will ruin that, not even Moira's friends right outside and certainly not the thought that someone might try to finish the job. He feels pretty safe right now, even though he probably shouldn't.

Having Erik with him just feels like he has an entire army there to protect him and it helps that Erik's apartment is pretty comfortable.

“Make yourself at home,” Erik says, then disappears into the bedroom with his luggage.

Especially the couch in the corner of the living room seems to welcome him. It's soft yet beneficial for his back and, he guesses, probably the most expensive piece of furniture in the entire apartment. He has a nice view of the kitchen from his spot there, surrounded by more pillows he would have ever given Erik credit for.

“I like it,” he tells Erik when the man in question returns. “Feels like something is missing, though. I could be wrong.”

“Not anymore.”

It takes him a minute to realise Erik means his presence, ignoring his actual train of thought.

“That's not what I meant, but thank you very much. I was referring to the lack of TV there.” He points to the large TV table offering nothing more than a DVD player, a small collection of DVDs and some wires which used to belong somewhere, preferably the back of a TV.

“What happened?”

Erik shrugs. “Apparently TVs don't like being ignored.”

“Oh, it self-destroyed?” He manages not to smile as he says the words and is entirely too proud of himself for succeeding.

“Yes,” Erik throws back, “that is exactly what happened.”

The man looks around a bit awkwardly, almost as if it's the first time he sees his own apartment. It's an endearing sight, Charles thinks.

“The kitchen's over there as you can see. Everything else is through there,” Erik explains, pointing his thumb behind him to the corridor where he just came from. “Just ask if there's anything unclear. It's probably not what you're used to, but-”

“It's perfect, Erik. It's _you_ , isn't it? I'd rather stay here with you in a place that breathes your personality than anywhere neutral.”

Erik definitely knows that by now, but if it can alleviate some of the man's worries it is worth it to repeat the facts every now and then. The worry is adorable but unnecessary. Erik should feel comfortable within the walls of his own home and he truly hopes he can convince Erik he's doing okay, because there's something that seems to make him doubt that very much.

"Can I get you anything?" Erik asks like the polite gentleman he is, because he is exactly that: a gentleman. Behind the rather rough (but nevertheless impeccable) exterior there is a charmer hiding, not that Erik would get behind such an accusation.

"As much as I appreciate all of this, and I cannot stress that enough... you realise I am not against fetching things for myself?"

"Have you considered that maybe I am? The way I see it: the longer you stay put the better your odds. Besides, that implies you can take care of yourself and I have seen evidence of the contrary," he adds teasingly.

"That seems a bit overcautious."

Erik raises his eyebrows.

"Very well, message received. Do you happen to have any tea?"

"I'll check if I have any that has not surpassed its expiry date," he offers, moving to the open kitchen.

"That would be wonderful. Any will do right about now, expired or not expired."

"I am surprised I haven't been extradited for loving coffee," Erik jokes, removing a few items from his cabinet to get to the lesser used stock in the back. He digs out his old water boiler as well.

"I believe the current punishment is worse."

He leaves Erik to his self-appointed chore, leaning back a bit on the couch and closing his eyes in an attempt to ignore the throbbing in his thigh. He tires easily and hates every bit of it. Charles doesn't even fully realise when he doses off despite the pain.

 

 

(Erik)

 

Erik smiles as he fills the water boiler and switches on the machine. Next, he goes in search of some biscuits. He will have to thank his neighbour Mrs. Evans for her trip to Tesco as well. His kitchen is about as fully stocked as it gets for a single man. It reminds him he needs to let her know he's home again. He puts everything on a tray.

This is the first time he's brought someone to his home he feels so strongly about. Before anything serious just seemed out of reach, mostly because he didn't think he could commit; he didn't think he had the patience and time for such a connection to another human being. Even now he still has some doubts. If Charles knew some of his darker thoughts, would he...

But then Charles knows a lot, he's already seen some of his darkest thoughts and witnessed some of his memories. Charles has seen more than anyone before and he hasn't left yet. He must've picked up some of the hatred he feels every day, his need to hurt the people who hurt his mother? Why doesn't Charles resent him? They still have a lot to talk about if they want this to work, but he doesn't want to rush things or try to leave again. If Charles is willing to give him a chance the least he can do is give himself a chance too. The situation is far from perfect right now, but once things calm down they'll have time to figure everything out.

He adds a cup of milk, not entirely certain how Charles likes his tea, and heads back to the couch where he places the tray on the table in front of Charles.

“How do you-” he starts, but stops when he notices Charles is far from listening, eyes closed and sleeping peacefully. He grabs a blanket from the recliner next to the couch to cover Charles with before grabbing a pillow and carefully lifting Charles' leg.

“The doctor told you to keep it elevated,” he says, more to himself.

Once Charles looks comfortable enough, his leg resting on the table supported by a soft pillow, he takes his own coffee and sits down beside Charles.

He can always reheat the water.

 

-

 

 

 

(Charles)

 

The doorbell rings, music to the ears of Charles' boredom. It's the frustration of not being able to move much and the fact that going outside with a target painted on your back might be slightly unhealthy. So be it if it's a doorbell providing the entertainment.

“Relax, it's just your neighbour,” he tells Erik, who seems to be ready to take out anyone hiding behind the door.

“As much as you knowing that is still a little creepy I'm going to applaud you for keeping an eye on your surroundings for once.”

“I do keep tabs. Certainly you don't expect me to keep an eye on the entire neighbourhood?"

“If that's what it takes...” Erik replies as he heads to the door and looks through the peephole just to be sure Charles is indeed correct.

“Yes?”

“A Mrs. Evans is waiting outside for you. She's on the list but if you want me to-”

Charles recognises the voice; it belongs to Marc Weller, formerly known as Tweedledee. In all honesty he quite appreciates what Moira's arranged for them and both Marc and his colleague Frederick seem like pleasant fellows.

“No, that's fine, you can let her in. Thank you, Marc.”

Marc waits until he closes the door before heading back out to guide the lady in.

“It's Mrs. Evans,” Erik explains to Charles, pointing his thumb to the wall on Charles' right. “She lives next door. She's come to-”

His explanation is interrupted by a low bark at the door.

“To return your _dog_?”

“German Shepherd.” Erik smiles sheepishly. “You're not allergic, I hope? I should've-”

Charles raises his hand to stop Erik from digging an even deeper hole. “I'm not allergic. Am I going to be eaten alive?”

“Worst case scenario he'll lick you to death.”

The doorbell rings again and Charles laughs. “Maybe you should open the door again now.”

Anita Evans' face greets him when Erik reopens the door.

“It's lovely to see you, Mrs. Evans.”

“ _Anita_. How many times?”

The dog whines and his neighbour can barely hold on to the leash, so she takes off the collar and lets the dog greet his owner.

“Come 'ere boy,” Erik says, allowing the shepherd to say hi. He returns his attention back to his neighbour. “Please come in for some tea,” he offers.

“Oh no, love. I wouldn't dare impose on the two of you.” She winks at Charles, then smiles at Erik. “Let me know if you need anything. I'd be happy to help out. I took the liberty of getting you some groceries.”

Erik thanks her and closes the door behind her.

Once inside the dog freezes for a moment before running straight to Charles.

“Prepare to be sniffed,” Erik warns, joining Charles on the couch. The dog sniffs, declares Charles okay and heads back to Erik's feet to drop down there after reporting his findings.

“She didn't recognise me,” Charles notes.

“Are you insulted?”

“No! Of course not. It's refreshing. What's his name?” he asks, nodding towards the dog.

“Magnet. He's a ladies' man, attracts all the girls.”

“Like his master?”

“Sort of, but I wouldn't say ladies are my area of expertise.”

 

 

 

–

 

The initial idea of boredom disappears quickly when Charles realises he likes _this_. He likes spending so much time with Erik and knows fully well that being in Erik's home, meeting his dog is a very big deal. He doesn't have to ask to know he's one of the very few people Erik has ever let this close.

He is not bored at all. He calls Moira and puts her to work, after she makes him apologise for being an impossible idiot. He calls Erik's boss via a private number Moira gave him. The man turns out to be a very big admirer and, apparently, he reunited the man with his family a few years back. He is happy to give Erik all the time off he needs and ecstatic Erik was such a great help, even if for such a short period of time, something Charles takes all the blame for.

Not that Erik's planning to return to work soon, but Charles can't help thinking this might be smoother than Erik calling his boss and demanding more time.

Erik is surprisingly okay with the whole arrangement, like a weight falls off his shoulders the moment he tells him about the call.

“What did you tell him?” is the inevitable question, though.

“Need-to-know basis. Don't worry,” Charles explains. “You might be up for a promotion, though. For saving my life after I fired you.”

“That's not what I told him.”

“Given that you didn't tell him very much, apart from no longer working for me and needing time off. You left a bit of a mess, I'm afraid. I decided to give the story a nice little spin.”

Charles loves Erik's dog and loves that Erik loves his dog. Magnet seems to be quite fond of him as well.

Erik only raises his eyebrows when he comes home carrying Chinese take-out and groceries and finds Magnet sitting up straight in front of Charles with an impressive tower of doggy biscuits balancing on his nose.

Erik, in response, just stands there in the doorway, blinking.

“You're turning my dog into a circus animal?”

“Clearly he is not opposed to the idea.”

“Clearly.”

Charles knows Erik is still staring at him when he tells the dog it's okay to eat his treats. He also knows that there is a smile tugging at the taller man's lips when he says: “Nom, nom, nom. That's right.”

Charles scratches the dog behind his ears and watches him dart off to say hi to Erik, possibly to see if there's food in those supermarket bags.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Suddenly I'm really nervous. If you can, please let me know if you're still enjoying this. It might actually motivate me to write a bit faster. Not that I'm trying to blackmail, I can just use a good poke every now and then. Sorry for the delays and thank you for the support. Slightly longer chapter this time. Really hope you enjoy.

(Erik)

 

A young woman with blonde hair, entirely dressed in blue is using his dinner table as a chair, loungingthere as if she belongs and doesn't have a care in the world. Erik's first response is to look for a weapon of some sort, something to defend both himself and Charles with from this intruder. The thing that stops him is the slight worry hidden on otherwise fearless features. That and Charles behind him crutching forward and calling her by her name.

“Raven! What in the world are you doing, we could've thought you were an intruder.”

“I am.”

Smartassery runs in the family then, Erik thinks.

She smiles at Erik. “I'm sorry about that. Dear Fred outside gave me his blessing.”

Fred's not the only one, Magnet's lying at her feet wagging his tail. His dog is one big softie.

“She's good friends with Hank,” Charles provides before he can even ask how she got his address.

“Good to see you too, brother.”

“Raven, as happy as I am to see you this is really not-” he stops for a moment and looks at her. “Will you get off the man's bloody table.”

She rolls her eyes but complies, adjusting her dress when her feet hit the wooden floor.

“I needed to see for myself you were safe,” she explains. “Hank is doing a good job keeping this arrangement a secret.”

Erik snorts. “I can see that.” What worries him is that he believes her words despite her dramatic entrance.

“Except for me. The security detail outside is pretty impressive. I'm guessing Moira had her way?”

“Is it that obvious?” Charles asks her, not expecting a reply.

“But apparently I'm on a list of people to trust.”

Erik decides he could use some food right about now. “You staying?” he asks her, no reason to beat around the bush here.

“I booked a hotel room a few blocks away, so yes and no.”

“Dinner?” Erik offers.

“I thought you'd never ask, I'm starving. Looks like my brother could use some food too. So, how long have you two been sleeping together?”she asks casually, sounding as if she's wondering what's for dinner.

Charles makes his way past her to the kitchen, ignoring the question. She follows. Erik somehow doubts that's the last part of this conversation. Later, after cooking spaghetti and making one healthy sauce with vegetables while the siblings set the table and chat, he learns he's right.

He offers Raven a plate first, before helping Charles and then himself to his homemade spaghetti.

“I'm waiting,” she says.

“Dig in?” Erik knows he sounds hopeful she's referring to the food. She's clearly not.

“I'm just trying to find out if your ass is safe with him,” she tells Charles.

In reply Charles coughs and nearly chokes on a mouthful of pasta.

“Well, if you're going to put it like that...” Erik notes. “I can't guarantee that.”

Charles looks like he's still having trouble swallowing his food. “Raven... could we... maybe not discuss this... over dinner,” he finally manages. “As much as I appreciate you flying over here, what about The Mystique?”

“The club can survive a while without me so I can visit my big brother. Besides, I think I've earned a vacation. It will be interesting to see how the city has changed and I can drop by whenever you'd like, maybe help out.”

“That would be lovely, Raven, but you know you don't have to-”

“I want to,” she insists.

Charles is speechless.

“What he's trying to say is thank you,” Erik helps.

 

–

 

Against better judgment Erik agrees Charles needs to get out, do something that's not physical therapy or anything else that ends up utterly exhausting him. He can sympathise, but he doesn't have to be happy about it even _if_ everyone assures him it's a highly organised event.

“Worst case scenario: they make a move and they get caught,” Charles declares from the spot he conquered at Erik's living room table, engrossed in another pile of paperwork.

 _Always the foolish optimist_.

“Worst case scenario: you get shot _again_ and die at your own charity event.”

“It's not really my charity event. I contribute.”

Erik shakes his head.

“They are not going to try anything. Not there,” Charles continues.

“No, but they might try something on our way back.”

“There's Moira's security detail, those nice police officers. I have _you_ , Erik.”

“And I know just as well as you do that this might be the best option to catch them and end this.”

“No, Erik, you don't have to like it. I'm quite certain I don't either.”

Charles sends him a powerful calming sensation, but makes sure Erik knows it and is willing to accept it.

“About that,” Erik says, crossing the distance between them to sit down across from Charles at the table. “That psychic wall you have, the one that keeps you from invading my privacy?”

He is not entirely sure he's wording it the right way, but working with what Charles has taught him about how his powers work, this is the best description he can come up with.

“It's more of a curtain to be honest, with you anyway, and a very thin one at that. Most people are a lot easier to block out. I do try, though I admit it may not seem like that at times.”

Erik raises his hand to stop him. “That's not my point. I want you to open it.”

“You want me to... You're sure? You realise I don't have the slightest idea how this might affect either of us once I fully let my guard down. I might be able to reverse the connection once it's established but it won't be as pleasant.”

“Will I be able to hear you? Will it give us some kind of advantage at least?”

“It might, but I don't know, Erik. It's not an exact science.”

Erik smiles. “Good enough for me. Do it, Charles.”

“Alright.”

“What do I do?”

_'Nothing. I'm gradually dropping_ _ the _ _shields between us so_ _ as not to _ _overwhelm either of us.'_

Charles closes his eyes and takes a deep breath before opening them again.

“It's done.”

Erik gapes at Charles. “That's it?”

“I did say my mind likes your mind.”

“I don't feel any different.”

“That's because you have to open the doors yourself. Go ahead, close your eyes.”

He does, _sees_ what Charles means by doors he needs to open in order to complete this connection. He is in a broad corridor with three doors in front of him.

“The first door will allow me to see and hear your surface thoughts and hopefully allow you to see mine. The second door is the memory layer. You can choose to close them if you feel overwhelmed. It requires some concentration, but that's why I designed them. I don't want you to feel like you have no privacy whatsoever.”

“You _designed_ them?”

“It's the easiest way to show you how this works.”

He nods. “Layers. Like peeling an onion.”

“Not quite but close enough.”

“What's the third door for?”

“Deeper and more emotional thoughts. I suggest opening the first one first.”

“Charles, I need you to know-”

“Shh, I know, Erik.”

“I don't think you do. You wouldn't still be here if you did.”

Charles leans closer, elbows on the table.

“I know you want to kill the people who killed your mother. I've known from the very beginning. I also know some part of you hoped I would have something to lead you to them. I'm sorry I don't, but at the same time I'm not sorry. I'm glad you haven't killed anyone, even monsters like them.” He raises his hand to stop Erik from interrupting. “I've seen more than just that. You're a better person than you give yourself credit for.”

He doesn't agree, but it's not something he wishes to discuss right now. Deep down he knew Charles would pick up these feelings. He's doing this to be in touch with Charles, protect him if necessary.

“You're okay with that?” he asks.

“No, I'm not, but I do understand the sentiment. You are not a murderer, Erik. You just don't know it yet.”

He feels they could continue this conversation for an eternity and still not agree. Instead he closes his eyes and opens the first door.

_'Erik?'_

_'I can hear you.'_

_'Splendid.'_

He can feel Charles' relief accompanying the words in his head.

_'Now, if you fully open the door you should be able to hear everything. When I'm close to you. If you leave the door ajar, you'll just catch the occasional thought.'_

_'Like adjusting volume_ ,' he thinks. The design is clever, something that's one hundred percent Charles.

 _'Quite right_.'  
“I suggest we leave it at that for now, see how it goes,” Charles continues. “The auction is in a few days so we will have some time to get used to it.”

 

\--

 

They spend the next few days getting accustomed to being in each other's head. It's the oddest sensation and Erik would be lying if he called it a walk in the park. They're constantly feeling each other's boundaries. He needs to remind himself why he's made the decision on more than one occasion. There's no more hiding for either of them and it takes some getting used to. It's worth it, though. Everything's out in the open and he's never felt more connected and understood. He doesn't necessarily understand what Charles sees in him, but he's learnt that the only thing that counts is how they feel about each other.

They talk about Charles' work experiences both as a psychic and as a contact for Hank McCoy. It genuinely surprises Erik how many people Charles has pissed off in the past. Aside from that he needs to discuss Charles' social network. The man is entirely too trusting and that for someone who's seen his fair share of ugliness.

Not that Erik doesn't know a lot of people. Pissing people off is something of an art form he's quite good at as well. The more connections you have, the more toes you can step on.

“You're pretty well connected yourself,” Erik says.

“Only to the eye of the beholder.”

“Sounds ambiguous.”

“Not as ambiguous as I'd like.” Charles continues with a wink of all things.

Erik sips from his beer, then moves from the kitchen to sit beside Charles on the couch. “I get it. You know who other people _think_ you know and you leave the rest to the  snowball effect that follows..”

“Precisely.”

“What I don't get is the why.” He puts his beer bottle down on the coaster on the table.

“The media are going to write about me no matter what I do and while I'm not terribly fond of using other people to do my bidding, you have to admit it would be silly to turn down something positive if it comes my way.”

“Like a contract killer.” Charles coughs, nearly chokes on his water, but Erik continues mercilessly, “No, I mean why like this. There's only at least a thousand other ways to help people and use that head of yours. As good as you are at the stage act, it's not you, is it?”

“Ah, I _am_ good at it,” Charles jokes. “The other options aren't as lucrative. There's things I can do with money that makes it worth while.”

“You don't need the fame for that.”

“I promised Raven I would only use my half of the inheritance for myself.”

“Well, for what it's worth I think you're doing your fair share even without the money donations.”

“I'm not a saint, Erik. I can be very selfish in fact.”

Erik takes advantage of the silence that follows to shift to his knees and kiss him on the mouth.

“I don't like sharing for one,” Charles adds with a radiant smile on his face.

“That's good. I don't plan on being shared.” He kisses Charles again.

“You taste like beer. I think I want one... after.”

“No.” Another kiss.

“Erik?”

Erik stops and settles down next to him again. “Not yet. Soon.”

“Oh for goodness sake, you're not hurting me.”

“But I would if we continued.”

“This is some weird torture you have up your sleeve, my friend.” Charles pauses. “That's my dramatic stage way of saying you're an asshole.”

Erik grins.

“We'll have to buy you a proper suit for the event.”

The grin slips off his face. “What's wrong with the suit I have?”

 

\--

 

He decides he does not like the whole charade the moment he steps inside the old theatre building. There's so many people, but there will be even more guests tonight, _too_ many, and they will all want to speak with Charles. As safe as it seems with all the security, he is not leaving Charles' side.

_'You are not joining me to the loo.'_

_'I think I am. And I know you can tell I'm not kidding or about to change my mind, so you'd best deal with it.'_

_'Deal with it? Truly, Erik?'_

“Charles!” An older lady's voice reaches his ears.

_'Who is she?'_ comes Erik's immediate response.

_'She is not here to kill me. She is one of our most generous benefactors and genuinely cares about charity.'_

_'Tell me if you sense something odd.'_

_'Yes, love. You'll probably know when I know.'_

Erik steps away, but not far enough to miss the conversation. The lady is wearing a modest dark green dress, an equally green hat on her head. 

“It's lovely to see you Ms. Rodiger. Thank you for coming.” Charles manages to remain upright as he fumbles with the crutches so he can shake the woman's hand.

“I brought my friends as promised,” she says. “It is the least I could do.”

Very wealthy friends at that, Erik guesses. Wherever they are, he hopes for Charles' sake they're spending said wealth.

“I cannot thank you enough, I am quite certain this will be a success. Everyone went above and beyond.”

The woman's hat is terribly distracting. Erik can't help sympathising with the dead parakeet nesting there.

He snaps back to the present when Charles' sudden chuckle rings through the room.

_'Hardly a parakeet. Though, it does look like a deceased animal.' _

“Are you quite all right, Charles?”

“Ah yes, I'm sorry. Just remembered something. It's truly lovely to see you, dear. I hope you'll excuse me, I ought to go in search of my table.”

“Oh of course. I heard about your unfortunate accident.”

Charles frowns. “You did?”

“I once fell from the stairs myself. My back has never been the same.”

At least the grapevine isn't accurate.

“I'm so sorry to hear that.”

“Well, I will leave you to search for that table and I am certain you have plenty of others to speak with tonight, more interesting than little old me.”

“No one here could be more interesting,” Charles says nearly seductively.

“You're a liar, but a charming one.”

_'And a little too good at it.'_

_'I only have eyes for you, Erik.'_

He follows Charles as the shorter man crutches his way to one of the tables near the stage.

_'I'm your plus one. Am I your date?'_

_'Would you like that?'_

_'Why can't you just give me a straight answer?'_ Erik is smiling, though. _'Yes, I think I would. These people are bound to find out anyway, since I am_ not _leaving you out of my sight.'_

_'Yes, I do believe you have mentioned as much.'_

He helps Charles sit down, taking the crutches and placing them on the floor next to the seat, still in reach but slightly hidden by the long table cloth. As soon as he sits down he finds Charles right hand waiting in front of him.

_'For holding.'_

Erik rolls his eyes but grabs the offered hand in his own left.

“You're cold,” he says out loud.

“It's okay, just a little. It'll get warmer in here once everyone's arrived.”

Charles wanted to arrive first and quite frankly, so did Erik. It's easier to keep an eye on people as they come in one by one. Their seats are not just close to the stage so Charles doesn't have to move very far, they're just as close to the emergency exit.

 _'Which we won't be needing,'_ Charles insists.

“Well, forgive me for not taking _your_ word for it.”

 _'I'll push you under the table if necessary,'_ Erik adds in thought,  entwining their fingers because he can.

_'Believe me, I'll throw myself under the table first.'_

_'No, you won't. That's the problem. You being here is a problem. You can barely stand on your own two legs.'_

_'Having three ought to be an advantage then.'_

_'You're giving me a headache.'_

_'Am not. I'd feel that.'_

Erik sighs in response.

_'I love you too, dear.'_

–

The evening passes in a  hypervigilant blur, which is a contradiction he is willing to acknowledge. He hasn't touched a single glass of wine all evening and neither has Charles.  If Charles reached for a drink Erik would only empty it in the nearest flower vase anyway. Meds and alcohol don't match, even a selfless fool like Charles knows that.

He can't even bring himself to trust the really old ladies. One of them has an umbrella while another carries a lighter in her right pocket. Meanwhile he can feel Charles' headache building. 

He worries when Charles is on stage, worries when he is not.

Erik doesn't know what to expect, he's never been to an event like this as a guest. The suit he's in makes him feel a bit uncomfortable, but he chalks that up to liking the feeling of being in control and as far as these fancy events go he's about as lost as a newborn pup. Charles picked the suit for him and given the interesting looks he has been getting all night it is safe to say that at least Charles knows his way around. But then, he already knew that.

He breathes a sigh in relief when the highest bid for Charles' help comes from a woman Charles is vaguely acquainted with via his late father. It's a weird feeling people are willing to pay so much money for some time with Charles, even if it is for charity. 

_'I can't believe I'm about to share you for twelve thousand pound.'_

Charles nearly chokes on his drink _and_ manages to snort at the same time.

“If I didn't know any better I would say you're jealous.”

“As long as she knows it's a package deal.”

Charles eyes widen. “That still doesn't sound right.”

“Can we sneak out of here now?”

“ _Sneak_ with these crutches? Not to mention everyone's right behind us.”

Erik is sure he looks about ready to pout.

“Soon,” Charles allows, “after I win the next item.”

“Which is?”

“Wouldn't you like to know?” Charles smiles sweetly.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, still nervous. Things are going to pick up and get darker soon.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bit of a short chapter, but at least we're moving forward now. I'll be re-reading this again to get rid of any typos/mistakes (I'm sorry if you spot any), just wanted to post this before heading to bed today. I have a new job and I start tomorrow. Kudos and comments are more than welcome as always. Thank you for reading.

 

(Charles)

 

“You _like_ throwing money around, don't you?” Erik accuses him the moment he accepts the small box he just paid entirely too much money for. Given what's inside the handcrafted box, no amount was ever going to stop him from placing the highest bid.

“It's for charity,” he offers innocently.

“Okay, now you've gotten that out of your system, can we go back home?”

Charles can practically hear the whine Erik does not voice.

“Would you mind keeping this safe? Kind of have my hands full at the moment.” He waits patiently for Erik to help him out before adding: “Don't open it.” He is being a tease, but it will be worth it.

_'You bought this for me?'_ The confusion is obvious. _'You bought me a bracelet?'_

_'Why yes, I believe I did. A woman's bracelet you should add.'_

_'Why?'_

_'Trust me on this?'_ That seems to calm Erik's frantic and confused thoughts just a bit.

“Fine, if we can get out of here now.”

Charles smiles up at him. “Absolutely. I thought you'd never ask.”

He makes sure no one's around when they get in the car, a different car than the one they came in, courtesy of Moira's security detail. Trying something now would be suicide. They safely make it back to Erik's apartment, where Erik can no longer hide his curiousity.

“Can I open the damn box?”

“What are you, five? Not that I suggest five-year-olds should cuss like that, thank you very much. And to answer your question: no, you can't. Tomorrow maybe.” He grins for extra effect, knowing it will annoy Erik even more.

 

–

 

He wakes up in the middle of the night, drops of sweat on his skin. The alarm clock tells him it's just past three a.m. and Erik's sleeping soundly right next to him. It does not take long for him to figure out what has woken him up. His leg hurts, not enough to be alarming but painful enough to draw him from his slumber. Charles already knows what Erik would say if he were awake now.

"Yes, you told me so," he whispers in the dark, not expecting a reply.

One look at the nightstand tells him he left his pills in the kitchen. He removes the covers and crawls out of bed, reaching for the crutches leaning against his nightstand. He doesn't bother concealing the grimace as he, by some miracle, manages to get upright and _en route_ to the kitchen. It takes him longer than usual, but he eats something, fills a glass with water and takes a pain pill. There is no way he is making it back to bed, though. The couch will have to do. He barely makes it to the soft piece of furniture, but he does and even covers himself with the blanket that is still lying around. His leg is still complaining, but there's not much more he can do about that.

Magnet, of course, shows himself and follows him to the couch. The dog doesn't demand his attention, just follows him and sits down beside him to keep an eye on him. If he weren't hurting so much he'd pet the dog and thank him for being so loyal and protective. He's taken to him, fiercely.

He opts to close his eyes and ignore the throbbing until his meds kick in.

He is so focused on managing the pain he doesn't hear Erik enter the living area until he speaks.

"Charles? Was I snoring?"

He startles, earning him an apology.

"I'm sorry, didn't realise your eyes were closed. Heard you moving around." He stops talking for a moment as if considering something. "Are you okay?"

He wants to say he is but he doesn't want to lie "No. Hurts," he admits.

"How long have you been up?"

"Twenty minutes?" he gives his best estimate.

Erik throws a look at the kitchen counter, probably to see if there's anything he can help with.

“Let's get you back to bed.”

“Rather not.” He hates how whiny he sounds.

“I Insist,” Erik tells him, clearly not taking no for an answer as he moves closer to the couch and lifts him up bridal style as if he weighs nothing.

“Erik?” He can't help the slight moment of panic.

Erik is careful, makes sure he doesn't jostle Charles' leg, no more than necessary, as he carries him back to the bedroom and helps him get back under the covers. As soon as Charles is as comfortable as possible, extra pillow under his thigh, Erik lies down beside him and puts an arm around his waist.

“That okay?” he asks.

“Yes, thank you, Erik.”

“No need to thank me. In fact, wake me up if this happens again.”

“Okay.” He manages a smile and if Erik can't see it in the dark he knows the sentiment arrived without any trouble.

"Can you block it? Like you helped the kid?"

"'fraid not."

"I thought so. Will you be able to sleep?"

Erik's reading him quite well. "Soon, I hope."

"Is there aything I can do?"

His breathing is slightly laboured, but Erik's arm around him helps ground him.

"Distract me for a bit?" he asks, feeling a bit guilty for keeping Erik up along with him.

He's in awe when Erik comes up with a surprising plan.

"Can I show you something?" he asks, "Or is that too taxing right now?"

Erik's referring to his mind, a memory.

"Only if you don't mind."

"I won't regret it. How do we-?"

Charles enters his mind with a natural ease that ought to frighten anyone, but not Erik, not anymore.

Erik is still using the same mindscape, the one he created for him. The initial design is his, but by now Erik's found a way to inhabit the construction with his own unique personality.

_'This is truly marvelous.'_ He wants to say more but he is so in awe of Erik's creation that he can hardly find any words to describe what he is feeling, other than admiration. Erik has turned his simple but efficient design into something more welcoming and warm, a detailed home.

_'If this is going to be some sort of new telepathic reality I want it to be something I recognise.'_

_'You're a quick learner.'_

_'And a bit of a control freak, but you know that.'_

His surroundings transform into a crowded park and at first he's not quite sure where to look until his instincts draw him to a little boy, playing in the sand. The child looks terribly busy digging holes and filling buckets. He's every bit the Erik he knows today: dedicated, passionate, loving and professional, all at the same time.

_'Only you would describe me that way.'_

His attention shifts to a young sleeping lady on a bench, her head resting on the shoulder of the man sitting next to her.

_'My parents,'_ Erik explains.

The man is watching over the boy while moving his hand through the woman's hair. He looks a lot like Erik.

_'My mother would've liked you a lot.'_

He smiles. _'I wish I could've met her.'_

The lady, Edie, wakes up and stretches a bit before looking for her son in the crowd and kissing her husband. Erik looks up, drops his shovel and runs straight to her, into her loving embrace.

The park transforms again, this time they're back in Erik's bedroom, reality.

"I don't know why I remember this so well."

"It's beautiful, Erik. Your mind doesn't need a reason. Thank you for sharing that."

"How are you feeling?"

"Better, I should be able to sleep now, I think."

The pill seems to be kicking in and it helps that Erik is right there, it helps more than he could ever describe.

 

-

 

 

Charles wakes up feeling lethargic. Erik's not beside him but he can smell breakfast. He managed to get some proper sleep and his leg is back to its regular ache. He leans up on his elbows to look for his crutches only then remembering they must still be in Erik's living room where he left them. It's not much of a surprise, not as much as Magnet sitting in the doorway of the bedroom, staring at him.

"This is getting a bit creepy," he tells the German Shepherd.

The dog tilts his head to the side.

"But I appreciate the worry. Really."

Magnet drops down with a whine.

"He's moaning because he's not allowed in the bedroom. He wants to make sure you're okay," Erik explains, showing up in the doorway as well. "I hope you're feeling better, I made us breakfast."

Charles smiles. "Smells delicious. I'm feeling much better."

"I'll fetch your crutches."

"That would be lovely. Thank you. _And_ for last night."

Erik lingers in the doorway for a moment and smiles.

"Don't mention it."

That's the longest Erik leaves his side that day. He enjoys every bit of Erik's attention and the fact that the feeling's clearly mutual.

They play another match of chess together, again one of the most thrilling games he's ever played. In fact, Erik is so good at it Charles feels truly proud when he wins the game. Even with their minds linked the game is still challenging, because neither of them opts to cheat and look for the other's strategic plans, as tempting as it is to have a peek.

Besides, apart from enjoying a nice match of chess with Erik, he's constantly busy scanning the area for anomalies. Every hour he checks again, out of precaution for the most part. It's never a good idea to underestimate someone willing to hire a sniper to kill you in cold blood, no matter how bad a shot he is. By all means he should be dead already. He wishes he could keep an eye out 24/7, but even he has his limits.

“Even you? That's not smug at all,” Erik notes.

Charles snorts. He didn't quite mean it like that. On the other hand, if there's anything he feels confident of... There's no reason he should feel ashamed of being good at something and taking pride in it. He's far from arrogant, but he does know what he is doing. In general, when it doesn't concern Erik. When it concerns Erik he's more than a little lost. He's so fucking lost he couldn't find a tree in a bloody forest. He means that in the best way possible, of course.

He's considering the rather impossible chore of taking a shower with a mostly uncooperative leg. Perhaps Erik won't mind helping him out... again.

The problem with plans is that life has a tendency of screwing them up.

He checks their surroundings for the millionth time expecting nothing new. Except, this time nothing takes a more literal form.

"Erik, something's wrong," he says, not bothering to hide the dread in his voice, Erik will feel it whether he likes it or not.

"What is it?"

"I'm not sure, but the house two streets down, the one to let? I was checking the neighbourhood... there's someone there. I can't feel anything, like my mind is hitting a void. It's not right.” It's hard to explain, mostly because he's never felt anything quite like it. The best way he can describe the sensation is a big blur of nothing wandering around the empty house. “I think they found your address."

Erik gets up the moment he says the words, no longer doubting any of his instincts.

"You're no longer safe here," Erik agrees, in an attempt to remain calm, "but leaving now might be exactly what they are waiting for. I'm calling-" He doesn't get to finish the sentence. Erik is close to Charles when an explosion rocks the entire apartment building, but not close enough to get him to safety, or do much of anything. It's Charles who tackles Erik to the floor, by crashing his full body weight into Erik so they end up in the doorway between the living area and the corridor.

 


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this took forever. I'm still here, still working on this and I really hope you're still reading and enjoying this. *points to comments and kudos section below for those interested in kicking my butt into gear*  
> As always: I own the mistakes, but not much else. Sorry if you have to see any.

(Erik)

 

Erik distinctly remembers having an apartment, or at least having a structure with walls and some modest furniture within them. What is left of his home is not very impressive, as far as he can see, that is. With the exception of the fucking cloud of dust, one that would make any special effects crew proud, there is not much to be seen. Waking up in a pile of rubble tends to be both confusing and painful. It's likely a miracle that he is still breathing at all, or rather a lucky coincidence.

“Charles?” he asks, half-coughs.

Nothing.

“Charles?” he tries again.

Still nothing.

He's covered in cuts and bruises and he has to dig himself out of the remains of his own furniture. There's a deep-looking gash on his left arm and a similar one on his side. He's also quite sure his head met part of the debris up close. He is lucky, however, definitely lucky. The sharp piece of rebar right next to him is very telling in that department.

One coughing fit later he manages to sit up and look around. He can't see Charles anywhere or feel him. He's gone, Charles is gone. By all means if Charles survived the explosion he should be right here, or close enough to see him. Their connection seems to be gone as well, something Erik only wishes to read as _gone_ and not dead.

He coughs again as he tries to make out what's left of his apartment and looks for the easiest way out of the rubble, still hoping to find Charles along the way, however unlikely. Whoever planned this, if you can call it much of a plan, had other intentions than to kill them. _Kill Charles_ , he reminds himself, he was probably just lucky.

“Mag?” he calls for his dog next, but the loyal animal is also nowhere to be seen or heard.

 _Fuck_.

He finds his phone, screen completely cracked and unresponsive to his plea. He pushes the button on the side once more to try to activate the phone, but it's no use.

He's close to the hole in the wall, where his door used to be, when he hears the sirens. Thankfully someone had the sense to place an emergency call.

His earlier thoughts are confirmed when he spots both Frederick and Marc outside, both dead. Clearly they got caught in the explosion but survived only to get shot in, what he guesses, an attempt to keep any intruders at bay. It makes him wonder why he's still alive, other than the fact that he hadn't been conscious enough, _at all_ , to get in the way.

 

 

 

(Charles)

 

He's seen that red keychain before, but even as it's dangling in front of him his brain can't seem to make sense of it. He blacks out again, his jumbled thoughts reaching for Erik as he loses consciousness.

His first thought when he comes to again is that he's starting tot feel responsible for all the property damage this threat of his is producing. _Wonderful, absolutely wonderful_. The second thought is not as inappropriately amusing by a long shot. Charles allows reality to sink in. He can no longer feel Erik's mind and he is not lying in a pile of rubble as expected, nor is he in hospital, where he probably should be given the way his leg is complaining. It's still attached, he concludes humourlessly after a short inspection of his body and surroundings.

He's on the concrete floor of some kind of basement and there's a medieval-looking chain securing his bad leg to the wall behind him. As if his day couldn't get any worse: there's some kind of helmet on his head not only blocking his connection with Erik, but any connection with the outside world whatsoever. The weight of the bloody contraption is already giving him a headache, not to mention it probably looks as ridiculous as it feels. He shouldn't be thinking about that but it looks like he has got all the time in the world to ponder on nonsense. That chain doesn't look like it's about to give and he can't seem to get that fucking metal bucket off his head either. It's crushing his brain and he's not particularly in the mood for scrambled eggs.

He can't see much else in the dark and the helmet is not doing his peripheral vision any favours. He can't make out how big his prison is. He can only guess it's larger than the average basement and a lot smellier. The odour's origin is something he refuses to think about.

It's not just his leg anymore that hurts, it's pretty much his entire body by now. Either someone used him as a punching bag while he was unconscious or he was in an explosion, maybe even both. Certainly the latter, he remembers as much. His thoughts flicker back to Erik, hoping he made it out of the explosion okay.

 

 

 

(Erik)

 

The paramedics and police take their sweet time getting there, at least in Erik's humble opinion. They insist he goes to casualty to get himself checked out. He wants to refuse, tell them no, but in the end he goes and tells Hank to come with him.

The depth of Hank's loyalty to Charles becomes even clearer now than before. He'd almost shown up as fast as the emergency services. He bets the young man tried to beat them to his apartment when he heard via his police contacts.

Hank is not on the case, not officially. They would say he is too emotionally involved, too much of a wild card, even if the science department isn't the face of the case. That does not mean it will stop him from contributing to the investigation, though. It's exactly what Erik needs, someone on his side, preferably someone he can trust.  
Of course they take his statement as ridiculously concise as it is. They shouldn't be asking all these questions when he's ensured them he can't help. They should be out there, searching for Charles. The serious nature of these policemen is about the only thing he can appreciate about the whole proceeding.

When they leave he rips the IV line out of his arm and gets off the bed, ignoring the knock on the door and the trickle of blood that runs down his arm.

“Erik?”

Hank's there, puzzled look on his face.

“Don't try to stop me,” he warns.

“I wasn't going to.”

“Good.”

They seem to have some kind of understanding there. He can work with that.

He looks around the hospital room for his clothes, but it doesn't take him long to determine that the hospital personnel probably disposed of them when they got the chance. When Hank drops a bag containing a set of spare clothes on the bed, he is beyond grateful.

“Thank you,” he manages and Hank just nods and seems to know that's the sort of reply that rates pretty high on the _Erik Lehnsherr scale_ _of appreciation_.

“I'll be outside,” Hank adds, leaving him alone to get dressed.

His ribs hurt, his stitched up left arm hurts, as do his side and his head. They were going to keep him overnight for observation, but he refuses to waste that kind of precious time when they could be out looking for Charles. He doesn't look presentable at all by the time he joins Hank in the corridor, but it'll have to do. He's not going to a gala, so if he looks like he was in a fight or two, then good.

He walks past Hank, knowing the young scientist will follow.

“Take me to your car, I'll tell you where we're going.”

 

 

 

 

 

(Charles)

 

Someone's coming. A door opens and the lights flicker on, blinding him for a moment. Charles considers pretending to be asleep. He would if it bought him some time, but there is this thing they say about curiousity and cats.

He is indeed in a basement, one that seems to have serviced as some sort of bedroom or mancave. There's even a pool table in the far back of the room. He's facing the back of a couch on his right and the stairs going up to the exit on his left.

It's then he notices all the blood colouring the floor. There's a lot of it, enough to conclude someone probably died here. The intestines he spots aren't very appetising either and all he wants is to throw up and get rid of the vile assumptions his brain is making of whatever went down here.

He recognises the face of the man who comes down the stairs, even without the facial hair he saw in Erik's memories. This is the man Erik's been looking for all this time, this is Klaus Schmidt.

"Apologies for the mess. I erm... had to fire the housekeeper."

Charles can guess what that entails. The man's looking at him, not speaking for a creepy pause, the sort of pause he wants to end before it even begins.

"Ah I'm sorry for staring I was beginning to think I'd have to wait forever to see you and now you're here. I'm quite excited, this is a big day for me, you see. I finally get to meet the man who ruined my career."

Charles can't help the confusion that flickers across his face.

Schmidt laughs.

"Isn't that adorable? You don't know me, do you?"

He does know this man, but something tells him this has nothing to do with Erik's memories. He decides to play dumb, hoping it will convince Schmidt he's not that smart or interesting. He's definitely not telling this monster about Erik.

"It's nothing personal, I'm terrible at remembering faces," he says, not sure how he manages to speak at all.

Besides, he's ruined more than one villainous career and he's not that sorry about it.

"Now, Charles, I know that's a lie, but given that you've never seen my face I will let that slide. Not a lot of people know what I look like and the people who do see my face don't get the opportunity to talk about it."

"Not much to talk about," he notes under his breath because he's clearly an idiot with suicidal tendencies. Why else would he say something as stupid as that?

"What's that, Charles? Care to repeat that?"

"Not really, no."

Schmidt laughs, he laughs, doesn't hit him in the face.

"This is so much better than I'd hoped for. We should start at the beginning. The name's Sebastian Shaw."

Obviously that's supposed to ring a bell.

"Ah, now you remember. I knew I'd left an impression."

Obviously the man is delusional as well. What is he supposed to tell the homicidal maniac in front of him? That he remembers? There is only one problem there: he doesn't have the vaguest idea what it is he's done to ruin this man's career. He can guess it has something to do with his own career; it is not that much of a stretch. Honestly, he cannot be expected to remember people he's never met, or whose names he's never heard. Shaw, Sebastian Shaw. Nope, still does not ring much of a bell at all.

He swallows before speaking, hoping he won't sound as shaky as he feels.

"You haven't killed me yet. In fact you've gone to great lengths to bring me here. I'm assuming you want something."

"How astute of you.You see, I've always wanted you dead for one, but I have to admit I can think of other opportunities, too good to miss out on. It would be a waste to kill you when we have so much in common. This is just perfect, dear Charles."

“You want me to help you with something?”

“No, I want you to join me.”

“Never.” He could try to pretend to agree with everything Schmidt says, but if he's reading him right it won't work unless he puts up a fight first.

“You will, eventually. Until then you'll just have to do what I say.”

“Or else?”

“Or else I will pay your baby sister a visit. She's in London now, isn't she? She's beautiful, looking at hair care and colouring products as we speak. I believe she's going to go for red.”

He holds his breath and tries not to curse. He can think of at least a dozen very ugly words, all extremely fitting for the bastard. It's a bluff. It has to be a bluff.

"I believe I see panic there. Now, Charles, I won't touch her if you cooperate. You'll learn we want the same thing."

“You're confusing panic with disgust.”

“You really are as eloquent as they say, aren't you?”

“I try,” he manages dryly. “What exactly is it _we_ want?”

“Ah. Not yet, Charles. Not yet. Do try to be patient, it's a virtue as they say.”

Schmidt moves to a small refrigerator in the back of the room and takes out a bottle of cooled water.

“I'm not a monster, after all,” he says as he throws it in his general direction, bottle landing near his left knee before rolling further. Schmidt doesn't waste any other fresh air on threats and heads up, turning off the lights on his way out of the basement.

Charles remembers the sight of the intestines on the floor and decides that no, Schmidt is not a monster, he's far worse.

 

 

(Erik)

 

“I need to borrow your phone,” he tells Hank as he climbs into the passenger seat of the young man's car. He receives the item without question.

He calls Moira first as she's probably hunting him down already and because she seems like one of the other few people he can trust to have Charles' best interests at heart.

“MacTaggert,” she answers her phone.

“It's Erik.”

He can hear the slightly nervous sigh she breathes in relief at hearing his voice.

“Please tell me he is still alive?”

As expected she knows, like she knows everything.

“I don't know,” he admits. “He was gone when I woke up.”

He is aware of Hank starting the ignition of the car.

“I will find him,” he adds, hoping it's not a lie.

She sounds powerless when she speaks, perhaps even a bit resigned. Yet somehow she manages to sound determined at the exact same time, as if she believes him.

“I know you will and when you do I want you to tell him I expect to be reimbursed for all the trouble and grey hairs he's given me.”

There's an eerie kind of desperation in her voice now, something he never wants to hear again, because it's clearly not very Moira.

He swallows. “I will.”

“Tell me what I can do.”

“I'd like you to go through Charles' past again, see if there's anything we missed. Start contacting people if you have to. Anything you think might help.”

“I'll get Sean to help.”

 _Good_ , that's good. They can think about the consequences of their little solo operation later, what matters now is that they find Charles. He thanks her and hangs up. Erik calls Darwin and Alex next, hoping they're willing to help too.

“Turn left here,” he tells Hank. “I need you to drive in the direction of my apartment. Charles was on to something before the explosion.”

 

 

(Charles)

 

Too much time to think. Too much time to go insane.

The bottle of water is still lying next to him, abandoned. He's thirsty but hasn't touched it. He won't if he doesn't have to, even if that's the only choice he's free to make.

He has to assume Schmidt is telling the truth, that he has eyes on Raven and can kill her when he feels like it. He can't afford to underestimate him or any of his associates because the man is clearly not working alone.

The sniper they seem to call Ace. Charles would have to be more conscious next time to make his acquaintance and possibly thank him for shooting him in the thigh and not the head.

Then there's the woman he saw in Erik's mind, Emma Frost. She's vicious at the very least.

But Schmidt, _Shaw_ , is clearly in charge.

It's worrisome that they found a way to block his abilities, not just because it leaves him nearly incapable of defending himself, but because it is doing exactly what it was designed for. They wouldn't have been able to do that without the help of someone with similar abilities. He supposes it explains why Erik's mum couldn't be convinced of Schmidt's deception.

Yet, at the same time, they wouldn't go to so much trouble to create such a device if they didn't fear him too, even if just a bit. It doesn't make sense unless they know he's at least a step higher on the psychic ladder. It's a small comfort.He will have to rely on his natural non-psychic ability to read people in order to survive, long enough for Erik to find him. Erik is not dead after all, he can't believe that; and if Erik is not dead he is going to look for him against better judgment because that's the kind of man he is.

 _Just be bloody careful, don't get yourself killed for my sake_.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I took some liberties, again. This chapter contains a scene of torture (short enough, but it's there). I feel like I should offer some cute innocent puppies for compensation (and as a reward for waiting so long for this update). I don't have an excuse other than the typical 'life's been busy'. I can't thank you all enough for reading and commenting and I hope you continue to enjoy this fic. Oh and mistakes are all mine as usual.

(Erik)

The car is too slow. Erik is easily annoyed by his surroundings under normal circumstances, but today he fears his annoyance might lead to homicide. It might be worth it if it means progress.  
  
“Call Raven,” Hank says, keeping his eyes on the road the entire time. “Her number is in my address book.”  
  
Erik keeps his mouth shut and complies, words a complete waste of time. He flips through the phone's address book as quickly as possible and finds the right number easily.  
  
“She's going to want to help,” Hank adds.  
  
“I doubt that's-”  
  
“If she wants to she will. In this case she will try to assist no matter what we say and in all honesty we could really use an extra pair of eyes. She can take care of herself if that's what you're worried about.”  
  
He's not sure what he's worried about, or rather what he's not worried about.  
  
When the call hits voicemail he hangs up and tries again. Raven picks up on the fourth ring this time.  
  
“Sorry, Hank. I was taking a shower. You didn't tell me they were together together.”

“Raven,” Erik interrupts her.

“Erik?”

The pause is enough to drastically change her tone.

“What's wrong?” she asks.

He doesn't know where to begin.

“It's my brother, isn't it?”

“He's gone missing, but we're doing everything we can to find him.”

“I'm coming over to help you find him.”

“Raven, no. I need you to find a safe place to stay.”

“I'm not just going to sit on my hands and wait.”

“I'll call you when we know more. There's nothing you can do. Charles would want you to be safe.”

“Fuck you, Erik.”

But he can hear she knows he's right, but who is he to tell her what she can and cannot do. He gets it. He’s the one out there looking for Charles if their positions were reversed he’d be going insane.

“I know. It's gonna be okay,” he tries to assure her.

“You don't know that.”

“No, you're right. I don't.” That’s exactly what frightens him.

“Just find him.” Her breath hitches. “I can stay at a friend's place. I'll be safe there.”

“Thank you. I promise I'll do what I can.”

“You'd better,” she says before hanging up on him.

“That went well,” Hank comments.

“You think?”

“No, I mean it. A bit too well. Raven's not one to just sit by and wait. What happened to an extra pair of eyes?”

He's honestly not certain he wants to know what that entails, but he’d rather not have two Xaviers in trouble.

 

(Charles)

It's a miracle he manages to sleep at all; a peaceful sort of slumber is completely out of the question though. He dreams of blood, colossal pools of crimson. And Erik. Erik. The sound of someone coughing up blood. The sound of Erik dying because of him.

“Charles?” he hears Raven's voice as if she's behind him, but there is no one there, nothing, except for the walls around him and the increasing red. “Don't be silly, I can take care of myself” she says. “I own a nightclub,” she adds, then her presence disappears and silence follows.

There's a crack in the wall, more blood seeping through it.

_You don't have to worry, Charles. You don't need to._

He wakes up retching and coughing his lungs out, his stomach making a valiant attempt to bring back yesterday's breakfast. Yesterday? Maybe he's already losing track of time. Nothing has changed; he is still in the same dark basement as before.

He's shaking when his body finishes its act of rebellion. He can still taste the blood from in his dream, but he knows it's not his blood. It's Erik's. His subconscious is trying to tell him something, but he bloody well doesn't need a dream to tell him how fucked up this entire situation has become. He is not going to just sit and wait. There has to be something he can do, something to keep Raven safe and Erik from bleeding to death. Thankfully his dreams are never literal, but they’re never entirely wrong either.

When Shaw blesses him with another visit, he silently vows he will do anything he can to keep the people he cares about safe.

“You need to drink, Charles. Stay hydrated.”

“You first.” He gives the water bottle a slight shove so it rolls forward and stops at Shaw's feet.

Shaw smiles, albeit this time there's a hint of annoyance on his face.

“We're going to need another bottle of water,” he tells the silent man next to him, who nods and disappears up the stairs swiftly.

“I believe we started off on the wrong foot. I'm not trying to kill you.”

“My leg begs to differ. There's been a lot of trying going on, for lack of a better description.”

“Ah yes, well, that was before I realised what you and I could achieve together. I truly regret that.”

Shaw's partner in crime returns with another bottle of water, one Shaw uncaps and takes a large sip from. “Satisfied?” He screws the cap back on before throwing it at Charles’ feet.

 _Not quite_ , he thinks. “What was in the other bottle?”

“Something to make you a bit more compliant, but seeing as you're more stubborn than anticipated I'm going to have to resort to other means to make you comply.”

Shaw's waiting for a response, anything to tell him Charles understands what that entails. He does, but he refuses to give the sick son of a bitch the satisfaction of seeing it on his face. “Or you could just agree to work with me.”

He remains quiet.

“I didn't think you would. My friend here goes by many names, but I prefer to call him Ace, as he is a bit of a trump card.”

Charles looks down at his leg and wonders what Shaw considers a trump anyway. Clearly the man is a lousy marksman.

“I can tell what you're thinking. And you're absolutely right. Bullets are not his style. He's great with knives, though, but I'll let you find out for yourself.”

He allows himself a moment to consider what that means. It means he's screwed for starters, but it also means he's not using Raven against him. He shouldn't antagonise the man any further, but he needs to know.

“You haven't found her, have you? If you haven't found her by now you certainly won't now.”

Shaw doesn't reply, he simply looks at his friend instead. “Go ahead, Mr Zazel. I'm sure I don't need to remind you I still need him alive?” Shaw pulls out a butter knife and offers it to his pawn.  
The man grins, still doesn't say a word as he accepts the knife and comes closer.

Charles freezes.

“Might get messy,” the Russian goon warns his boss, as if the other man is susceptible to caring about any of that.

“Start with the leg,” Shaw adds, as if discussing a piece of meat.

It takes his brain a while to register what's happening. In fact, it's only when the Russian digs the blunt knife into his leg and the blood starts flowing he realises the pain is unbearable. The pain doesn't stop, but the cutting does when he's near to passing out.

“I don't want to continue this, Charles. Join me.”

He decides to stay quiet again, lacking the energy to reply.

“Promise me your loyalty and I will tell Mr. Zazel to stop.”

And even if he did have to energy for an eloquent reply, he still wouldn't join a maniac like Shaw. He prides himself in being a good character judge and from what he can tell even if he agrees to work with Shaw he will still be a prisoner with no room for escape.

“Very well, you leave me no other choice. Mr. Zazel, you know where to find me if he changes his mind.”

He can't even muster the energy to watch Shaw leave, too focused on the butter knife sticking out of his leg.

 

(Erik)

The house is empty, but clearly served as a hideout, if the leftover cartons and old newspapers are anything to go by. The most recent magazine is three days old. Hank steers clear for a while, sensing his frustration at the lack of new leads from a mile away.

He wouldn't want to be anywhere near himself either. He feels like a caged animal, and a wounded one at that.

He moves through the house and ends up in the kitchen where Hank appears in the doorway.

"I called in a favour," he announces.

"What kind of favour?"

"I know a guy he specialises in-"

"Do you trust him?"

"100%, he's a bit persistent once he sets his claws into something, but very reliable. And no more persistent than you."

"Good that's all I need to know."

"Technically we shouldn't even be here."

Hank is staring at him knowingly. Clearly they both want to tear down the entire house.

"What?"

"You realise Charles could have anyone, right?"

That's... certainly not the reply he expected.

"What's your point?"

"My point is that he picked you."

Erik's still not sure where Hank is heading with all of this.

"I don't know how else to explain this, but at the very least he probably knows you're looking for him and that you won't stop until you find him."

"Look-" Erik starts but stops when Hank opens his mouth again.

"If I can spot that sort of loyalty it's not much of a guess that Charles has seen it too, which works for us. He's not just going to sit there and give up. This is just a small setback and we're not going to stop here and give up either. You're also possibly insane and it's likely you'll get us all killed, but I'm willing to take my chances."

"Thank you?"

"We'd better get him back so you two can even each other out again."

Hank of course makes it sound like the entire universe will be grateful.

"Tell me about the work he's done for you," Erik changes the subject.

"Anonymous work," Hank stresses, "I've thought about all of that but Charles never met any of the victims or perpetrators."

He might be grasping at straws, but it doesn't hurt to try. "Still, I'd like you to tell me about it." Any sort of lead is better than no lead at all. "Hank?"

The younger man nods. "Okay."

   
  


(Charles) 

The door closes behind Shaw and Charles tries not to predict anything, not to imagine anything, as the tall man in front of him takes his sweet time to inspect the knife in his leg. He looks old, beyond his age probably, and extremely tired. As if he's... as if... He can't quite focus. Not when there's a homicidal maniac in front of him trying to figure out if his knife is sharp enough for whatever else he's about to do.  
His predictions don't come close.

“Can you shield yourself?” He sounds Russian and definitely younger than he looks. The question catches him off guard.

“Sorry?”

The man hunches down in front of him and loses half of his threat factor in the process. There's patience and understanding in his eyes and Charles is baffled as ever.

“If I remove this thing, can you shield your own mind?” He's referring to the metal contraption that’s currently attempting to make his skull cave in on itself.

This has to be some sort of trick, he figures.

“I know you do not trust me, I understand,” he guesses correctly, “but I am here to help you and we do not have much time. I need to know if you can shield your mind,” he asks again, meanwhile getting rid of the shackle around his ankle.

Charles still doesn't trust him, but there's something honest about the man, despite everything that's happened in the last few weeks. He's not going to divulge any secrets, but as far as secrets go, this one is worth spilling just in case there is some hope here, no matter how small or farfetched.

“Y-yes,” he manages, decision made.

The Russian man nods, pulls a small key out of his pocket and unlocks the helmet before easing it off his head. It's the weirdest feeling of release.The disappearance of the weight allows him to breathe again, just a bit, even while blocking his own gift.

“I’m going to have to leave the knife in for now.”

Obviously, Charles thinks, unless you want to risk creating a blood bath.

He’s not bleeding as heavily as suspected, which seems to suggest the Russian wasn’t trying to finish him off. Charles eyes the man critically as the Russian tears off his own sleeve and wraps it around his leg, keeping the knife in place and preventing further blood loss.

“Can you walk?”

Charles looks down at his leg, then throws a rather indignant look toward his rescuer. What do you think?

“I can try?” he offers.

Mr. Zazel doesn't wait to find out, he simply pulls Charles' arm across his shoulders and pulls him upright, nearly fully supporting his weight.

He nearly cries out, bites his lip and tastes blood instead, something the taller man seems to appreciate given the circumstances.

“Not gonna make it up there,” he manages to whisper, meaning the set of stairs in front of them.

“We're not going that way. Keep shielding.”

He nods and focuses on exactly that and moving around, though he is not doing much of the latter if he's honest with himself.

Zazel leads him to a hidden door in the back of the room, hidden behind the refrigerator. From there he guides him through a long corridor. It's probably not that long, but it seems about as long as the Great Wall of China. After a while and a weak moment of his vision blurring Zazel decides to pick him up and haul him along over his shoulder.

“Not pretty, but faster,” the man notes with a slight grin.

Charles doesn't care anymore. In fact he stopped caring about his dignity the moment they chained him to a wall in a basement.

Zazel carries him up some stairs and they're outside suddenly, away from Shaw and his dodgy basement, but not safe yet. No matter how hard he tries to stay conscious, his body decides otherwise. Traitor. He manages to mutter a sorry though and when he does he's nearly certain he hears the man chuckle in reply.

 

\----

He comes to on another concrete floor, but he's no longer chained to the wall behind him, and despite the throbbing in his thigh he's surprisingly comfortable leaning against the wall. The stench is gone as well and someone's jacket is serving as a pillow for his leg. He's sure the limb is a mess.

“You're awake.”

Charles pushes himself up a little more. Zazel is sitting on a crate across from him, studying him.

“You are still shielding yourself?”

He nods. It comes naturally for some reason, he doesn't even have to shield consciously. It's almost as if he can turn it on and off.

“Help is on the way, but I'm afraid we will have to move to a safer location first, if we can.”

Charles has so many, too many questions. “I can't read you,” he settles for instead.

Zazel simply nods. “No one can.”

“It must've taken forever for Shaw to trust you.”

The man remains quiet and Charles doesn't push his luck. He considers reaching out to Erik, but he doesn't know where he is and he doesn't want to risk leaving a trail for Shaw to follow.

“We should leave. We've been here for too long already.”

“Where is here?”

Zazel moves from his spot to help him up again.

“You know my name,” he says when no answer is coming forward. He can guess why he's not allowed to know where they are. Shielding himself is not as attractive an option if you can just call for help yourself.

“Alexandrei,” he offers in return. It's something he supposes, as he clings to the man like a veritable lifeline.

“Let's go.”

He's not sure where Alexandrei is taking him but when the Russian leads him to an apartment and, more important, a room with a bed he's not complaining in the least.

 

 

(Erik)

They wait. Hank's place is as good as any to go stir crazy. He'd appreciate the organised mess that is Hank's apartment, but not today.

He doesn't expect much from Hank's contact, nothing at all if he's honest. He's certainly not expecting an address, but when Hanks shoves his phone in front of him and he sees the mysterious text he doesn't hesitate and grabs his coat.

“Erik, we don't know what we're going to find there.”

“You trust this man. You said so.”

“I do, but-”

“No buts, I'm going.”

The first text is followed by a second one: _I'll meet you there. I've earned that box of cigars. JLH._

Hank just sighs and opens a drawer to retrieve his car keys. “Should we call Raven?”

“Not yet. Charles would want her to be safe,” he repeats the words he said to Raven.

At least he hopes her friend's place is as safe as she's convinced it is.

 

 

(Charles)

The oddest sensation rouses him this time. There's something nudging his arm, something insistent and... wet. What in the world?

He opens his eyes and discovers that he must still be dreaming, because having Magnet here right in front of him, nudging his arm with his snout seems highly implausible. Yet, the loyal shepherd is right there and if Erik's dog is not dead… No, he can't allow himself to hope Erik's fine as well.

“I couldn't kill him.”

Charles wants to cry, something he blames entirely on his body, like a betrayal.

"This is my home," Zazel explains. "You will be safe here until my colleagues arrive."

"Your colleagues?"

"I will explain what I can once this is over."

He looks at the dog. "Thank you for taking care of him," he changes the subject, while stroking the shepherd's lower back. He wants to ask about Erik, but there's simply no way he's going to risk that; there's so much he doesn't know about his new Russian friend.

"The other man was breathing when we left," Zazel says as if reading his mind.

Charles knows the relief must show on his face, or the hope at least.

Zazel is on his feet the moment they hear a car screech to a a halt outside.

"Your colleagues?" Charles asks.

"Da."


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so so sorry, guys. I'm not going to make excuses I'll just say my life has been extremely unpredictable and I've had a pretty rough time. That said, I still plan on finishing this and I apologise for any delays. Part of the problem is that I know I either need to improve the quality (learn how to) or be more happy with what I have and actually post. There might be some tinkering along the way, but the plot is still what I've always had. Apologies for any mistakes. Of course I hope you'll still enjoy this. Again, sorry for the wait and thanks for all the comments and feedback so far. I can't even begin to explain how much that means to me.

(Erik)

Hank's contact does not look like one of Hank's contacts, which is an utterly strange thought in itself. How would he know what a contact of Hank looks like? Certainly Hank doesn't hang out with tall muscular dangerous-looking chain smoking predators?

"Good to see you, kid," the man says, meaning Hank.

The greeting he gets is a tad more threatening.

"Are you the one who nearly got Chuck killed?"

"What's that sup-" he starts then realises the man used the word nearly. "He's okay."

 _JLH_ drops the remainder of his cigar on the floor and steps on it as if it's the personification of Erik. Perhaps he's reading too much into the man's behaviour and body language, but he's definitely right about the look he's getting now: a clear mix of anger and worry.

"I wouldn't define it as okay, but I found him."

"Where-"

"First things first, bub. Him I trust," he says, pointing his thumb at Hank, "you not so much."

"Enough, Logan," Hank cuts in, obviously not afraid of the man he’s identified so far as J Logan H.

“He has a point,” Erik adds, “while we’re just standing here arguing we could be heading to wherever Charles is.”

The predator seems to consider that, throwing a glance around to make sure no one else is in the neighbourhood. "Follow me," Logan growls, leading them to an old van, parked two streets away, neatly out of sight.

"Get in.” Logan still sounds gruff, but if anything he understands the sentiment. “On arrival you will be searched for tracking devices and weapons. If you're cleared I will take you to Chuck."

"How do you two know each other?" he directs his question to Hank while fastening his seatbelt. His ribs aren't grateful but they will have to wait.

"You could say we were colleagues? But I met him through Charles."  
  
Erik is positive there’s a story there, but that too, will have to wait for another time.

"You're police," he says to to Logan, not really expecting a reply.

"Not anymore," Logan replies, starting the ignition.

  


(Charles)

He has no idea where he is, but he can't bring himself to complain. Anything that is not Shaw's morbid basement seems pretty pleasant right now.

Everything hurts, but not nearly as bad as before. He can't feel how bad it is. There's a certain feeling of numbness floating around in his body, a feeling he identifies as pretty strong painkillers.

"You are supposed to be sleeping," he hears, the voice familiar.

Alexandrei is sitting in a chair next to his bed. He still cannot feel the Russian's mind. As a matter of fact he cannot feel any minds. Why can’t he- He panics. He's not shielding, but the world is silent. He reaches for his head, but there's no contraption. Something's wrong, very wrong. He can't-

"Shh, your gift is fine. This room was designed for people like you, to allow you proper rest. I can open the door if you'd like. It might be overwhelming, but I think you might prefer a little chaos to complete silence."

He nods and Alexandrei moves to open the door, but before he does he turns around to face Charles again. "I don't know what you will hear first or how you will respond, but tell me if you need me to close the door again. I have permission to answer any questions you have."

What he hears is colour. He feels life and passion, the flow of a purpose. Beyond the door Alexandrei opened waits ambition and selflessness, people fighting for a cause, something they believe in. After days of silence the experience is stronger than ever before.

Charles needs more than just a moment, he needs to close his eyes, feel and revel in the presence of all these regained sensations.

"Where am I?" he asks, suddenly exhausted.

"We call this place the base," Alexandrei explains, reaching for a cup of water on the nightstand.

Charles takes a careful sip from the offered cup before replying.  "That's not very illuminating."

The Russian shrugs. "It's not meant to be. How are you feeling?"

Alexandrei does not necessarily strike him as the caring type, but he has shown a remarkable... interest in his wellbeing. There's an unmistakeable honesty about his actions.

"I'm not quite sure I feel much of anything."

"Probably a good thing. I suggest fiddling with that button over there when you do feel anything. You had surgery yesterday morning."

He gestures to the drip on his right.

"My leg?" In truth he doesn't want to know, but he prefers the truth to denial any day.

"Doctor said it's too early to tell, but he thinks he saved your leg."

Drugged to the gills or not, he doesn't miss the guilt that flashes across the Russian's face.

He sighs. "Not your fault. I'd rather blame Shaw."

Alexandrei laughs humourlessly. "You are a funny man."

"I’m certainly not trying to be." He shifts a bit in an attempt to get more comfortable.

"You should rest, I will answer more questions later. You are safe here."

He doses off, whether he wants to or not, the hum of the base's multiple brilliant minds in the back.

 

\----

His head feels more clear the next day, if it is indeed the next day. Charles has about a million questions and they all need an immediate answer. Where to begin? As much as he feels he can trust Alexandrei, he cannot bring himself to discard all doubt, not until he gets at least half of the answers he is hoping for.

 _Is Erik okay? Do I try to contact him through our link? Can I?_ The door is open and he can still feel multiple minds in the building. He could probably just reach out and… it’s very tempting. 

Erik.

Erik doesn’t even know about Shaw yet.

Charles doesn’t really know where he is, though he could probably pry that from one of the minds outside his room. Alexandrei takes that moment to walk in, cup of coffee in his right hand and a brown folder in his left.

“Glad to see you awake,” he says, settling down in the same chair to his left again. “The doctor came by again earlier. He said the important thing is rest right now and that you might need more surgery on your leg. He expects you’ll walk with a limp at least.”

He didn’t want to know that, but at the same time the news could’ve been worse. The limb is still attached then. Good enough for now while he’s still all drugged up and more worried about ten million other things.

“Fire away,” the Russian says, still a pretty decent mind reader himself.

Charles considers his options. “I don’t know what’s going on here and it certainly looks like you’ll have to kill me if you tell me, but I need to know if my friends are safe.”

“Erik Lehnsherr, Dr. Hank McCoy and your sister are safe. As are Lehnsherr’s colleagues and your personal assistant and manager.”

They’re safe. No, he doesn’t know yet. This could all be one very sick game. He should find out where he is and look for Erik himself. It should worry him that everyone knows more than he does. “I want to see them.”

“Lehnsherr and McCoy are on their way here as we speak. From what I hear Erik’s not too far from murdering my colleague.”

“They’re… on their way here?”

That is not what he expected to hear at all.

“Da.”

“Where am I? And don’t say the base.”

Alexandrei grins.

“You could call us a secret organisation.”

“Like the MI5?”

“Not quite, but we have an understanding with the other organisations," the man clarifies, “You happened to get in the middle of an operation we call Hellfire.” To stress his point he offers Charles the folder he is holding. "Some of the information is redacted but it should give you an idea of what we're doing. And keep you from getting too bored."

"Alexandrei is your real name?"

"Alexandrei Zazel is just one of many. People here call me Azazel. I like the sound of it." He sips from his coffee, as if he’s having a casual conversation and not discussing secret organisations over coffee.

"I ruined your operation," Charles notes.

"The operation was ruined before Shaw ordered to grab you. At the very least we weakened his organisation. He will need to regroup and relocate. That's good."

"Still..."

"I could not prevent the other deaths. I could save you, something I'm very grateful for. There was always going to come an end to my op."

The other deaths. Charles guesses he doesn’t know half of what Alexandrei has seen and done for this operation.

“My security detail?” he asks, fearing the answer as he words the question. He guesses Alexandrei knows who he’s talking about.

“Frederick Warren died in the explosion. Marc Littleton was still alive when we got there. Shaw’s order was to grab you and kill anyone who got in the way. Your friend Lehnsherr was unconscious at the time, but Marc tried to stop us…”

“You weren’t alone, you couldn’t blow your cover,” Charles interprets correctly, not making it easier for the Russian or himself. Marc died trying to protect him. No matter how he looks at it, he’s going to feel responsible for his unnecessary death. He’s clearly not alone there.

He swallows before breaking the heavy silence.

“Did you?”

Alexandrei shakes his head. “A man called Janos Quested pulled the trigger, but I am just as responsible.”

“He wanted to shoot the dog as well, I convinced him he wasn’t a threat, took him with me. I know it doesn’t make up for what I’ve done. Nothing ever will.”

“It’s something I’m grateful for. What did Shaw want with me?”

“Revenge at first. Then: expand his criminal empire I would guess.”

It sounds a lot like a euphemism for ‘take over the world’.

“Do you know why?”

Azazel shakes his head.  "Knowing Shaw it could be anything, including looking at him the wrong way. You're well known and from what I can guess way more powerful than he is. That sounds scary for a guy who wants to be in any position of power."

The idea of scaring a power-mongering maniac sounds hilarious.

"He said I ruined his career?"

"He gives orders, his men follow them. Most out of fear, some out of devotion and a weird sort of respect. We don't really know how far his influence reaches, but given that he can just pop up and disappear I would say pretty far.We managed to make an arrest years ago, but he got away. Escaped with the help of one of his many contacts."

"Should you not  be out there looking for him?" As much as he appreciates the company, babysitting him seems like an odd thing to do for an undercover agent.

"My colleagues are on it. From what I gather _you_ are my next mission. They said you would be more comfortable around a familiar face. Da, I did tell them I stabbed you."

"Seems a bit odd," he agrees.

"There is an obvious flaw in their logic, but if you do not mind I have no objections to introducing you to my colleagues and the work we do. My boss would like to meet you tomorrow."

It's all a bit overwhelming, an endless stream of information and new questions.

"About Shaw?"

"Da. She feels you could help us, if you want to."

He’s not sure he can help, but talking with Alexandrei’s boss is the least he can do. They did save his life.

He touches his flimsy hospital gown.

"I would wear something classier, but I'm afraid I misplaced the rest of my wardrobe."

"She doesn't stand on ceremony."

It's Azazel's way of telling him not to worry. It's weird how much he is beginning to appreciate the man who used him as a shooting target.

"Alright."

There’s something in Azazel’s smile that tells him he’s hiding something, but not necessarily something he needs to be fearing.

There’s something oddly familiar about this place and even if that’s just a feeling, he doesn’t tend to be wrong about those.

\--

Soon after, he actually meets the elusive doctor. He's a lean, short guy with round glasses and, apparently, no name. 

"Call me doctor."

He's bloody hilarious too. He could just poke the man's brain, but clearly his morals haven't changed much after Shaw. Charles 1 - Shaw 0. It's likely the least accurate thought he's had in a good while, but he will bask in the little victories.

The man gives him the same info as Azazel, just a lot more... He thinks _direct_ might be a good way to describe it. His thigh is an utter mess and he's fucking lucky to be alive. He is looking at more surgery and a limp that will probably make people get up for him on the tube.

"It's very possible you'll be in pain for the rest of your life. Some days worse than others. It's hard to predict, but likely."

Charles appreciates an honest piece of information when he hears one, except honesty is usually not that terrifying.

Charles frowns when doctor _doctor_ lets the dog in. "He kept moaning in the lunchroom. Just keep him away from your leg." Magnet trots over, sits down next to the bed and starts wagging his tail happily.

"At least you're in a good mood," he says to the shepherd, moving his hand off the bed so the dog can sniff before running the top of his index finger over the animal's chin.

For a second there he is very happy with the odd shifty doctor.

 

\---  


(Erik)

 

Erik tells himself he doesn’t necessarily hate Logan. Reality is simply more complicated than something as primal or brutal as hatred. He knows himself well enough to admit he’s not reached that point. In fact, he might even see what Charles sees in the loner, apart from an eerily similar fucked up sense of humour and a filthy vocabulary any self-respecting drunk would be proud of. He’s never seen Charles drive but when they hit a pothole he imagines that’s a common factor between the two of them as well.

He refuses to tell Logan to slow down no matter how many times the seatbelt tries to add more bruises to his chest.

“You okay?” Hank asks.

If he looks the way he feels he can guess where that question is coming from.

“Fine,” he lies, earning him a skeptical look.

“Alright, not fine, but there’s not much we can do about it.” At least that seems to settle the matter for now.

The drive takes forever and he’s sure he’s about to lose his mind when they reach the countryside. Hank doesn’t seem worried, though, something to draw comfort from.

  


\---

(Charles)

Azazel returns bearing gifts.

"Your doctor is paranoid," he says before Azazel can focus on whatever he has in that bag of his.

He smiles at the observation.

"Ah, it is true what they say about your skills of deduction."

"You're just going to stand there and mock me?"

"Da, if entertaining enough." he moves forward and places the bag on the sliding table in front of him. 

"My colleague is bringing your friends here right now, they should arrive soon."

"Testing Erik's patience, I'm sure. And mine, if I'm honest."

“You weren’t complaining your first two days here.”

“I’m going to take your word for it since I can’t remember.”

As far as he knows he slept his way through both days.

Azazel grins. “My point exactly.”

“You’re so helpful.”

“Open the bag.”

He does. There’s a box inside, a familiar box.

“How did you retrieve this?”

“Colleagues. We saved what we could from the apartment and stored it. This seemed like something you’d want back.”

“It is, thanks.”

He feels like cursing his tear ducts right about now and vows that he will give the bracelet to Erik as soon as he gets the chance.

“Are you going to open it?”

“It’s not for me,” Charles explains.  


\--

 

(Erik)

 

They reach an old farmhouse. Instead of asking more questions he’s probably not going to receive an answer to, he opts for waiting and guesses there’s more to this place than hay.

Logan drives the van through an open gate and comes to a halt near the barn.

An older man comes out of the barn wielding a pitchfork, looking extremely confused.

Thankfully Logan speaks up before he uses the pointy end.

“It’s me, Rad. It’s Logan.”

The man squints his eyes to get a better look. “You know how she feels about bringing strangers here.”

“Her orders.”

Erik guesses he wasn’t informed of their arrival.

“This is Conrad, he’s our gatekeeper.”

Conrad grumbles something about never being informed and safety measures only he seems to give a fuck about, then shuffles to the barn entrance. He stops for a second and stares at them. “Well? What are you waiting for? Get over here.”

The barn looks old, but well kept.

Erik’s not sure what he’s expecting when he follows Conrad to the back of the barn, but a secret hatch certainly isn’t it. He would mask his surprise but why bother? Instead he throws a look at Hank.

 _‘What’s going on?’_ he mouths, earning him a shrug and a headshake in reply.

  
  
  
  


(Charles)

 

He feels Erik’s presence before he sees it, not unlike the cold giving way to spring’s early blanket of warmth. It’s a marvellous feeling, something Magnet’s sense of smell seems to agree with. The way the Shepherd lifts his head in anticipation suggests as much, but for some reason the perceptive dog doesn't leave his side, clearly reluctant to abandon his self-appointed duty to guard Charles. He is sure that will change the moment Erik gets close enough to hear or see as well.

He can definitely feel Erik’s mind again.

 _‘Erik?’_ he dares.

Instead of a reply he feels a rush of excitement, frantic worry and a strange mix of hope and desperation. _Erik potpourri_.

Erik’s suddenly there in the doorway, real and so close; it leaves him speechless and unable to believe his own eyes. Magnet’s response serves as the perfect confirmation, almost literally bouncing at the sight of his owner.

Erik doesn’t hesitate: he rushes to Charles’ bed and plants a kiss on his mouth, hungry and emotional.

Charles responds by palming Erik’s neck, moving his fingers through the other’s hair. He doesn’t let go when their lips part each other. He simply gazes into Erik’s eyes.

Erik is the first to speak.

“Potpourri?”

He laughs and Erik joins in, neither mentions the single tear that runs down Charles’ face, or the matching one on Erik’s.

He lets go when Erik groans in pain.

“Erik? Are you alright?"

The look he gets in reply is similar to an eyeroll.

“You’re worried about me huh?”

Erik rubs Magnet’s belly; having calmed down the dog’s leaning against his leg, sitting comfortably on his right foot.

“Of course I’m bloody worried about you. I’m sorry, Erik.”

“Why are you sorry?”

“This wouldn’t have happened if-”

“Shh, don’t go there. This isn’t your fault. I’m okay, just cuts and bruises and painful ribs.”

“Marc and Frederick.”

“I know, but we can’t change what happened and you aren’t responsible, Charles. I think they knew what they were getting into when they signed the contract.”

“Maybe.”

“How are you?” Erik pulls his foot from under his dog’s butt and sits down in the chair Azazel always picks when he visits. In turn Magnet looks at Erik as if he were terribly wronged.

“I don’t know. My leg will probably heal, but I’m feeling a bit overwhelmed to be honest," Charles admits. "I’m really glad to have you back.”

“I’m here, Charles. You can talk to me.”  
  
“I have to, I’m just not sure where to begin. How much do you know?” he asks instead.


	16. Chapter 16

(Charles)

 

There’s absolutely no right way to explain to Erik that the person who wants him dead is the same man who killed Erik’s mum all those years ago. Schmidt’s name is now Shaw and his business has changed, but he’s still the same disgusting excuse for a human being with the same atrocious intentions and an even worse personality. His influence has grown, as has his following. This information is going to hurt Erik deeply, but holding back isn’t any better. Charles just doesn’t quite know how to-

“I don’t know how to explain. Can I show you?” he asks, keeping his eyes locked with Erik’s.

Charles figures showing isn’t the best plan either, but at least it will keep him from stumbling over words. Time works differently in his head and he hoped it would make the information a bit more bearable as a whole.

Erik looks sad, but nods. “I trust you, Charles.”

Charles leaves out the gritty details. Erik doesn’t need to see those details to fill in the blanks. Erik is too smart not to draw his own conclusions.

He transfers the gist of his own emotions and Erik’s grip tightens, imploring him to feel his support and at the same time drawing strength in a time of need. 

Erik knows now.

Erik doesn't say a word. 

He could read Erik but doesn't need to. Instead he shifts to the side and pulls him closer. He hopes he conveys sympathy but not pity. Erik takes the hint and lies down beside him, their bodies fitting together.

Charles knows Erik’s first instinct is to run and look for Shaw and he  _ would’ve _ not too long ago. 

“Stay?” he asks.

“I’m not letting him near you again.”

_ He’s not taking you from me. Not you, too. _

Right then Charles knows Erik would rather die than break that promise. They’ve gotten so very close over the last few weeks. It's both terrifying and exhilarating. 

Erik presses his forehead to Charles’.    


“I can’t promise I won’t kill him for what he's done to you and my family.”

“I know.” To his own surprise his voice sounds accepting, resigned perhaps. “No matter what, promise me you won't let him win.”

_ Don’t let this consume you. Don't let it change all the good in you _ .

Erik kisses him again. “Get some sleep. I promise I’ll be here when you wake up.”

It's not the promise he was hoping for, but the words are very meaningful nevertheless. He doesn’t want to imagine a life without Erik now. Erik’s changed him somehow and he thinks that maybe he has changed Erik too, even if just a bit.

He closes his eyes and allows himself to drift off, Erik right beside him.

  
  
  


(Erik)

Erik doesn't sleep, he spends the evening and night watching over Charles and keeping himself from destroying whatever’s closest to him, be it medical equipment or furniture. Part of him wants to leave and find Schmidt now, Shaw he corrects himself; the other part wants nothing more than make sure Charles is really safe. No matter how much his body aches and his brain tries to convince him he needs sleep, he simply refuses to close his eyes.

The clock on the wall tells him it's just past four a.m. when Charles wakes up again.

“Charles?”

Charles’ eyes are open, but he doesn't seem to realise where he is. 

Grabbing Charles’ hand he leans closer. “Charles? Are you okay?”

His eyes focus on him then, the change followed by a smile. 

“I’m okay.” 

It seems to be the truth.

“You’re here,” he adds, a little confused.

“Where else would I be?”

_Hunting down my mother’s murderer_ comes to mind, but the thought is pushed away by the look of appreciation and love on Charles’ face.

“Thought I was dreaming.”

“I’m guessing you were.”

“Hm…”

“Get some more sleep, it's early.”

Charles mumbles something inaudibly, before adding, “... You too.”

He actually tries to fall asleep after that. Erik is not entirely convinced he slept for very long when he wakes up to two voices arguing. Well, technically only one voice, but he can imagine the second. 

“You have to be bloody kidding me. No, absolutely not,” Charles says to no visible entity. Erik figures Charles either finally lost it or decided to engage in a long distance conversation. He can only hope for the latter.

“No, I’m not saying that because- Will you listen to me for one second? I’m telling you this because it’s a bloody daft idea.”

Erik takes advantage of Charles’ argument to stretch carefully. He should’ve commandeered a bed at some point. His, in his opinion negligeable, injuries seem a bit unhappy.

“You weren’t going to tell me, were you?”

That’s when Charles notices Erik’s eyes on him. “Sorry, Erik. Give me a minute?”

He nods, what else is he supposed to do or say?

“Yes he’s awake and I think he’s earned the right to listen in on this conversation, not just my half.”

Charles closes his eyes for a minute, possibly willing a headache to go away. 

“I’m leaving the explaining up to you. Will you get over here so we can have this conversation like normal people?”

Another pause.

“Ha-ha. Very funny, Raven.”

Erik doesn't bother hiding his surprise. _ ‘Raven?’ _ he mouths.

“Yes, love you too.”

Erik guesses that ends the sibling argument for now, since Charles looks ready to get out of bed despite knowing better.

“Oh no you don’t,” he says, placing his hand on Charles’ shoulder strategically.

The younger man sighs in defeat.

“Where is she? Is she okay?” Erik wonders out loud.

“Oh she’s fine. Even better: she’s already here and on her way over to do some explaining.”

“You’re going to let me wait for it?”

“I have something more important to take care of first and since you’re not letting me out of this prison, can you grab me the box in the drawer over there?”

Erik rolls his eyes and lets go of Charles’ shoulder before getting up and heading to cabinet behind Magnet. The dog looks up, interested, then concludes his human isn’t getting up to bestow him with treats and yawns before dropping back down on the blanket they gave him.

“Tough luck,” Erik says, giving Magnet a quick stroke. 

The box looks like he does, like it was in an explosion. 

“No surprise there,” Charles notes. 

He thinks it’s odd that Charles is picking up on that particular thought but that he can’t feel him as well as before. There’s just a hint of Charles there even when he imagines that ‘door’ between their minds entirely open.

“You’re in my head, but you’re not. What happened to the link?”

Charles frowns. “I’m not entirely certain. I think my mind is trying to protect itself. Should be temporary.”

He nods. “Seems logical.” It’s a relief. Charles might be in denial about what’s happened to him,  but if anything it must’ve been traumatising for him to say the least. He hopes it’s temporary. If he’s honest he misses Charles’ mental presence. 

“Come over here and open it.”

He smiles. “You’re nervous about this even while I already know what’s in it.”

“Maybe you should sit down.”

“Alright.” He does, not because he’s such an obedient listener but because he senses there’s something different about this very expensive bracelet Charles bought for him at the auction.

At first glance it doesn’t look like much when he lifts it from the box. It’s silver, a quality bracelet for women. The crafting style looks familiar. The tiny diamonds look real enough, but no surprise there. It’s an elegant piece one could wear to anything classy. Then he notes the engraving:  _ JL to EE _ .

“This…” he starts.

“I thought you might want it back.”

Erik surmises Charles might not even be aware of what this means to him, to hold something that belonged to his mother and was designed by his father, after all those years. 

He remembers his parents’ store and their dedication to it and their devotion to each other, expressed through meaningful glances and small gestures. The bracelet is a reminder of happy times, before his father passed away and before his mother got sick. 

Strangely he doesn’t feel like crying. Instead he finds himself smiling and looking at Charles. 

“Thank you.”

“There’s no need to thank me, Erik.”

The bracelet doesn’t fit around his wrist, but he vows to find a way to keep it close.

He moves from his spot to get closer to Charles so he’s in easy reach to kiss. Charles certainly doesn’t seem to object. 

“Raven,” Charles says a few seconds later, in between kisses. 

“Yes?”

“She’s almost here.”

“Your point?”

Charles laughs. “Not quite sure I have one.”

“Better,” he comments, continuing his ministrations. “This is good for your health,” he whispers affectionately as an afterthought.

“But NOT for mine,” Raven blurts out from the door opening. Magnet jumps up at the sound of Raven’s voice. The dog looks at Erik and when he nods Magnetic heads over to Raven and starts sniffing her. 

“I did give you a heads up,” Charles reminds Erik matter-of-factly.

“You should’ve given  _ me _ one, Charles. I’m the one with the trauma and in need of brain bleach.”

“I’m really happy to see you too, little sister.”

She looks at Erik.

“Under normal circumstances I would slap him for that.”

“You _ are _ my little sister.”

She heads over to the bed, Magnet now trailing behind her, to give Charles a loving embrace. “Glad to see you too,  _ alive _ .”

Down to business then, Erik figures, and pulls a chair over from the other side of the room so she can sit down as well. “I’m waiting.”

She sits down obediently, giving Magnet a quick pet in the process. “Alright, what would you like to know first?”

“Anything sounds reasonable at this point.”

She nods. “I’m not just a nightclub owner, unless you want to call this place a nightclub.”

He needs a second to breathe. 

“I’m assuming Charles didn’t find out until this morning?”

She looks slightly apologetic at the mention of her brother. 

“Ideally I was never going to tell him, or you for that matter.”

Charles coughs to interrupt their little one-on-one.

“ _ He _ is right here and believe me I’m just as shocked as you are. Now I know why you never wanted me to read you.”

“That and the fact that I like my privacy, a lot.”

Erik turns his attention to Charles. “Why are you so calm?”

Charles points to one of his drips in response. “I like thinking this is a drug-induced dream. I’d appreciate it if you let me.”

“I’m going to take advantage of that to mention that Alexandrei and I are an item. He told me you’ve forgiven him, which is a huge relief. I didn’t want you to get off on the wrong foot with my future husband. That would make organising our wedding so much more difficult.”

“Wait, what?” He wonders why his brain is still attempting to process the information. “I’m guessing I need more intel.”

Charles clearly decides that’s the time to send him a visual of the man, the man who seemingly tried to kill and torture Charles. 

“You are joking.”

“He’s a pleasant fellow once you get to know him.”

He reminds himself to check with the doctor to find out what exactly is in Charles’ drip. He ignores Charles’ peaceful statement for now. He’ll have to deal with Alexandrei later. 

“That Logan guy works for you too?”

She laughs in response. “You could call it that, but the truth is that Logan only works for Logan.”

“Bloody hell, Raven. Logan is here too?”

“The one and only, he’s been antsy to see you too. He even got a bit jealous when I gave orders to let Erik see you first and not let anyone else in until I got to see my brother. He and Hank are sharing a room.”

“Anyone else here I ought to know about?”

“Not really.”

“I was kidding.”

“You might recognise some people, had quite a few follow you around for a while until you got your own security detail.”

“For fuck’s sake.”

“Such foul language, Charles.”

“See, Erik, I’m not calm. I need to call Moira.”

“Already taken care of it. I’ve told her you were safe and at my place, with Erik here.” She looks at him apologetically. “I’m sorry about your apartment. You were never supposed to be at risk,” she continues.

“And your future husband was never supposed to shoot and stab Charles?”

The words come out harsher than intended, or perhaps not.

“Of course not. Are you implying I’d let my own brother get hurt? Willingly? Alexandrei didn’t think he had a choice.”

Charles intervenes by sending him another visual of the Russian risking his own life to help him out. 

“To be fair, Erik, I would’ve died without his help.”

“Or never been in that situation.”

Before either of the siblings can respond, he continues, “I know, we don’t know that, but  _ still _ .”

“I’m sorry, Erik. I truly am. I know this is a lot to take in. I’ll give you two some space. I brought you this.”

She pulls out a mobile phone. “It’s secure. You can speed dial me if you need me. Number five. I’m already late for a strategy meeting, but I’ll come by again as soon as I can.”

She looks at Erik again. “I’ll keep you in the loop, promise.” She gets up and gives both of them a peck on the cheek. 

“If you need anything go through the phone’s numbers. Anything you might need should be in there.”

“Raven?”

“Yes, Charles?”

“Be safe?”

“It’s a meeting I’m sure I’ll manage.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

She smiles. “I know.”

As soon as she’s gone Erik presses the button that sends Charles another dose of pain relief.  “Don’t think I haven’t noticed.”

Charles simply ignores his comment and waves the phone in his hand around. “Think there’s a dog walker on speed dial?”

Erik lifts his eyebrows. “You mean if he and Hank have a falling out because he sure seems to enjoy taking care of my dog.”

“That dog is a lot like you, you can’t blame people for loving him.”

“What are they giving you?”

Charles decides to play innocent. “You want some too?” He grows serious for a moment. “Really Erik, you should get yourself checked out by one of the doctors here, get a shower and some decent sleep, preferably in a real bed.”

“That’s a lot of demands. What am I getting in return? How about you promise to stay in that bed until a medical professional tells you otherwise?”

“Tough bargain, Lehnsherr, but you’ve got yourself a deal.”

Charles closes his eyes. “You’d better be asleep or in a shower or eating or cuddling with your dog when I wake up. I hear that sort of thing is very therapeutic,” he mumbles sleepily.

“You need to work on your threat factor, Charles.”  
  
“Do not.”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Halloween! <3

(Charles)

 

Time passes slowly, too slowly for Charles. He hates this, nearly as much as Erik hates it. In fact another three weeks go by and there’s still no sign of Shaw or his following, a clue to his whereabouts. 

“He’s smart but he can’t hide forever,” his sister insists. He can tell she thinks she’s failed them. Not that she would ever admit that. 

At least he’s had time to recover somewhat. He’s sharing a private room with Erik a floor down from Raven’s quarters and conveniently close to the base’s medical facilities. He knows Raven gave them a quiet room on purpose and that it’s not a coincidence that their neighbour is Charles’ physical therapist. Given that he makes a daily appearance in Charles’ life these days he can’t really blame his sister for the location or decision in general. 

Erik’s frustration remains obvious, but all in all he’s taking the wait rather well, he thinks. Their telepathic link’s quality leaves a lot to be desired but he can’t complain. It’s still there, Erik’s still there and he needs to give his mind and body more time to recover, something they seem to have entirely too much of at the moment.

Magnet is the only one who seems to appreciate all the quiet convalescence time. His pack is complete after all. He gets fed and walked and seems genuinely content as long as he can keep an eye on Charles and Erik. Charles thinks the dog has fully accepted him as second in command of the pack, or leader whenever’s Erik out of the room for a bit.

It’s nice to be able to breathe for a bit, he’ll give Magnet that. They should be safe here, that in itself is a comforting thought. It’s also a temporary thing and they can’t stay forever. 

Raven’s busy, or perhaps she’s avoiding them so she doesn’t have to explain why there’s no new lead. The alternative is that she does have a lead and is simply keeping it from them. 

Despite being frustrated with their current situation Charles has to admit Raven’s gathered a bunch of interesting individuals, some a bit more eccentric than others, but all good people as far as he can tell. 

“It’s such a pleasure to finally meet you. I’m Ororo Munroe,” a young lady greets him in the mess hall one tuesday. 

“The pleasure’s all mine.”

He’s certain the wheelchair he’s sitting in can feel Erik’s eyes in its back.

“Raven told you about me?” he continues nevertheless.

Ororo looks confused. “Oh no. I’m sorry. I’m an admirer of your work. I’ve read all of your books.”

“All of them?”

She nods.

“I had to read your work on social desirability in college. My professor recommended your other books as well.”

_ Poor soul _ , he thinks.

“Those books still mean a lot to me.”

“That’s very kind. Thank you.”

She seems to spot Erik for a second. “I’m sorry I’m being unprofessional. I’ll leave you to your lunch.”

“It’s quite alright. Have a nice day, Ororo.”

She beams. “You too.”

He smiles in reply, then dares a glance at Erik. He can’t stop himself from chuckling. “You’ve successfully eliminated the threat. Well done, you. I’ll let you in on a little secret, Erik. I’m gay.”

“I know that. She doesn’t.”

He laughs again at the thought. “I must be a fossil to her.”

“Hm. I highly doubt that.”

Erik and Magnet have an awful lot in common when it comes to keeping him in their sights. Frankly, Erik’s turned it into a bit of an obsession, but thankfully not the creepy obsessive suffocating stalker kind. He finds it endearing. Erik’s worries are justified, as are his. He’s glad Erik manages to keep busy even if that means having two socially interesting beings hovering over him.

Erik trains as well, sometimes alone and other times with whoever’s in the gym, often, he hears, it’s Logan punching the life out of a punching bag until he sees Erik. That’s when they beat the crap out of each other for training purposes and Erik returns with at least one visible bruise. He can imagine Logan looks like a mirror image most of the time. They get along surprisingly well these days.

Charles writes, at least until he’s more mobile again and allowed to do more than PT exercises. He would love to ditch the crutches as soon as possible. Unfortunately his physical therapist keeps reminding him he might never be entirely free of a walking aid. He should feel lucky they didn’t have to amputate and that his leg is still functional. It will never be the same, but functional ought to get him from life’s A to life’s B. Honestly, he is grateful, it’s just that on some days anything can turn into the last straw even if he is a patient man.

It’s one of those days he ends up tracking down Raven. He has had enough of her avoidance. He’s her brother and they need to talk. 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to come along?”

“Yes, Erik. Thank you,” he says, knowing his other half means well. “I’ll let you know if I need back-up.”

He looks for Hank first, knowing the young man is probably in the lab, working on something for Raven. It’s astounding how big Raven’s underground base is. He discovers something new every day. 

“Charles!”

Hank jumps up from his stool and greets him with a careful hug. “Let me get you a decent chair.” He heads into the lab’s office and comes back carrying comfortable-looking leather chair. 

Charles places the crutches against the wall and sits down in the offered seat. “Thank you, Hank.” The scientist reclaims his own higher seat. 

“How are you?”

Charles smiles at the genuine concern. Physically he’s been having a pretty good day. He’s barely in any pain today, which is something he’ll gladly take as a win.  “I’m quite alright all things considered. Erik keeps reminding me you had a lot to do with that.” Emotionally he feels pretty unstable, but he decides not to mention that. 

Hank blushes. “Not that much.”

“Still. Can’t thank you enough.”

“I think you have by now,” he notes with a smile. “What brings you to my humble abode?”

Technically the lab isn't Hank’s, but he doesn't mention that either.   
  
“I’m looking for my sister, actually. She’s been avoiding me.”  
  
“She was here about an hour ago for a progress report, but in all honesty I think she has been avoiding me too.”

Charles purses his lips. “Wonderful. I am going to guess she feels guilty for no reason.”

“It’s possible. Listen, Charles. Now that you’re here I’d like to ask you something. I’ve been working on something and I was wondering if you’d mind helping me out.”

“That depends. What are you working on?”

Hank’s entire face lights up and Charles is already sold.

The distraction is welcome, but no matter what, he vows to have that conversation with Raven today.

 

 

(Erik)

 

Their current situation is not the most accurate representation of their relationship. Despite being unable to look at it from a more normal perspective he thinks they have a pretty healthy bond. Even without the completely crazy circumstances he doubts they’d have a normal relationship, but then, he figures he wouldn't be able to live with normal. Erik is glad Charles is anything but normal. A few months ago he wouldn't have considered his current situation a possibility. Charles waltzed into his life and belonged there. Belongs there, right here by his side.

He decides to go for a run and he’s taking his dog with him. The base is huge enough, its many corridors a maze. He’s getting really antsy and it’s the perfect plan to blow off some steam. His own injuries have healed nicely despite people having to remind him of their existence. Just proves what he’s been saying all along: he’s perfectly fine. 

So he runs, Magnet following his pace, the dog entirely too excited. 

He knows most of these corridors by now which, to him, means Raven trusts him or he simply wouldn’t be here. Or: Raven trusts Charles and Charles trusts him. Maybe that’s enough. 

He rounds another corner and nearly runs into a woman wearing a labcoat and a young man in a military uniform. They give him a nod, which he returns. It makes him wonder how the grapevine works around here, because clearly everyone’s up to speed and has been from their arrival. He smiles at the idea of a newsletter going around with their photos. 

“Yes, your photo too,” he tells his dog. “Don’t look at me like that. It’s not my fault you look like a blood-thirsty monster.” Perhaps he shouldn’t take advantage of his dog’s lack of vocal skills.

He slows down when he hears more voices in the next corridor. He recognises the male voice as Logan’s before he turns the corner. Much to his surprise Logan is helping a young woman up from the floor.

“Sorry,” he tells her.

“I wasn't paying attention,” she admits. “I’m alright.”

Erik takes in Logan’s outfit as the woman walks away. He’s wearing a pair of red training trousers and a t-shirt with a familiar logo. It takes him a minute of staring, and his dog sniffing the man, but then he recognises it as the logo Charles uses for his shows.

“You’re staring, bub.”

“Interesting t-shirt,” he notes, dryly.

Logan grins. “Ask Chuck.”

He must look a bit baffled. “You running into people as well?” he asks instead.

_ Obviously _ , Logan expresses through a mere look, then gives him a once-over. 

“Try to keep up,” he warns then runs off expecting Erik to follow. 

Challenge accepted.

In the end they designate Magnet as victor of their race. For silver and bronze they will need a rematch in a more empty environment, fair is fair. They don’t need Raven’s wrath or a property damage bill.

“So, do you prefer running or hitting things?” Erik asks on their way to the showers.

“I keep in shape any way possible, but running is something I’ve always done. Helps clear my head. Not as well as Chuck does, but it’ll do.”

Erik stops in his tracks. “Wait, what?”

“Relax. We used to run together in college.” Logan laughs, because apparently his quick bout of jealousy is adorably funny or something.

“I had no idea,” he admits, continuing their walk.

“Charles doesn’t strike you as someone who enjoys running? Don’t let those legs fool you. He’s fast.”

Erik frowns at the automatic comment. 

“Sorry. For some reason I keep forgetting, or rather I cannot imagine him not bouncing back from this.”

“Well, I’d love to see him run.”

“Then we’re going to have to do anything in our power to make that happen.”

Erik smiles. “That makes two drill sergeants he’s not getting rid of any time soon. I bet he didn’t see that one coming.”

“What? This?” Logan wags his finger between the two of them. “He probably predicted it the moment he knew of your existence.”

Erik guesses he has a point there. Some odd pair they make, but he supposes they’re friends now and decides he doesn't mind in the slightest.

He showers, dresses and sits down to have a healthy snack in the mess hall. He walks his dog in the provided area above ground and it almost,  _ almost _ , feels like a regular day. He hopes Charles is having a productive chat with Raven. Some progress would be nice right about now. 

He passes the lab on his way back to their quarters where he sees Hank writing in a notebook of some sort. He decides to knock on the door and pop in. 

Hank looks up from his writing, clearly startled, then presses his right index finger to his lips. It’s only when he gets closer that he sees why he needs to be quiet. Through the open door of the lab’s office he spots Charles asleep in a recliner, leg supported by another chair and a pillow.

“Is he…?”

“He’s fine,” Hank whispers, “just exhausted. He was helping me with one of my recent projects when he dozed off.”

“Must’ve been very entertaining,” Erik notes with a smile.

“To be fair I asked him to relax and close his eyes.”

“What kind of project are we talking about?”

“Nothing dangerous, if that’s what you're asking.”

“I am,” Erik confirms, taking another peek at Charles’ sleeping form through the door opening. He looks peaceful enough, Erik decides.

“It’s just that Charles has the most interesting brain activity I’ve ever seen.”

“He does make an adorable lab rat.”

"I would never- ” Hank stops in his tracks when he sees the other man’s response.

One corner of Erik’s mouth lifts in a half-smile. 

“We both know Charles well enough to know he wouldn’t agree to anything unless he wanted to. Did he see Raven?”

Hank shakes his head. “He was looking for her when he came in, we got a bit sidetracked.”

A bit.

“Why am I not surprised? I’m going to have to steal him if you don’t mind.”

“All yours.”

  
  


(Charles)

 

_ He sees a cabin, deep in the woods. It’s an old wooden structure, but well kept and inviting. _

_ He hears the rustling of tree leaves, the sound of a water stream nearby. _

_ He smells the exhaust fumes of multiple cars driving up to the cabin, ruining the forest’s tranquility.  _

_ When the cars stop the peace is once more interrupted by a plane flying over. _

_ They brought guns. _

“Charles?”

He wakes up with a start, Erik looming over him.

“What happened?” he asks, annoyed by his own confusion.

“Not much, according to Hank.”

He snaps back to reality, remembering his day.

“I fell asleep.”

“You could say that.”

“I fell asleep thinking about Shaw.”

_ Nightmare then _ , he reads Erik’s face.

“I’d rather you fell asleep thinking about me, but given Hank was probing your mind I’ll forgive you.”

“I was not  _ probing _ his mind,” Hank yells from his desk.

“No, I… I’m gonna need a map,” Charles says, ignoring both of their comments. “Hank, do you have a map around here?” He reaches for his crutches but Erik beats him to it, offering the pair.

“Not here, I think, but with all the military personnel I’d be surprised if they didn't,” Hank reasons.

“Charles? Care to elaborate?

“I might know how to locate Shaw.”


	18. Chapter 18

(Erik)

When Raven finally arrives Charles is pretty convinced he knows where to find Shaw. Erik admires that conviction.

The evidence is lacking, but who are they to doubt a Charles-hunch? Erik realises he has changed so much over the last months. Back then he wouldn't have considered any of this a possibility.   


Raven looks a bit doubtful, having just arrived. The information seems unreliable, but Charles is anything but unreliable.

“Explain this to me again, Charles? You dreamed this?”

Hank looks like he wants to jump in, but Charles answers before the scientist can intervene and Raven can blame them both for testing Hank’s new project, the two aren’t necessarily linked.

“Essentially that description is quite correct,” he supplies calmly.

Erik thinks it’s a bit odd to see this different side to Raven; it suits her but the stern gaze is unsettling.

He moves closer to Charles to have another look at Charles’ notes and map markings. If anything the location has Shaw’s smarts written all over it: well secluded but not in the middle of nowhere. He ran, but not far enough to lose control over his people and business.

“Alright,” Raven says after a pause, clearly knowing and trusting Charles’ instincts well enough. “I’ll take it from here.”

He looks up at that. “What does that mean?”

“It means I have an op to plan, I’ll keep you in the loop.” 

She means to walk out, leave them out.

“Raven,” Charles starts before she can.

“Don’t, Charles. This is my op, I don’t want my brother near it.”

Erik snorts, earning him a glare from the base leader. “That’s funny. I’m not sure if you noticed but your brother is near this whether you like it or not.” So is he, in all honesty.

He expects Charles to tone him down just a bit, to reason with him and look at it from his sister’s point of view. He doesn’t.

“You’re not doing anything without either of us. I think we’ve earned to see this through,” Charles demands instead.  


“I can’t do that, Charles. You’re not an agent. I need you to be safe.”

She makes it to the door before Charles stops her.

“Raven,  _ wait _ .”

Erik can tell Charles just wants his sister to hear him out,  _ needs _ her to listen. He’s surprised when Raven stops dead in her tracks and doesn’t move at all.

“Raven?” Charles asks, sounding uncertain as if he's trying to comprehend something, as if he's done something wrong. Erik realises she  _ can’t  _ move, can’t turn around again to have this discussion with them. She can’t move because Charles doesn't want her to, because he thought it. Charles shakes his head seemingly banishing a thought. It seems to work as she finally turns around again, looking surprised and a bit frightened. 

“Fuck,” she cusses.

“What just happened?” Erik asks the siblings, needing an explanation to the scene in front of him. He has a pretty good idea, but a decent explanation would be welcome nevertheless.  


“I’m sorry,” Charles offers. “I didn’t know I could-”

She frowns. “That makes two of us.” Raven walks out without another word, still looking slightly shell shocked.

“Okay I’ll repeat my question. What just happened?”

Charles looks puzzled himself. “I wanted,  _ needed _ her to wait and hear us out.”

“So did I.”

“Yes, but you didn’t control her body with your mind to do it .” He sighs, disappointed.

“Would you like me to go after her?” Hank pipes up, re-establishing his presence in the room.

“No, thank you Hank. I’ll talk to her and apologise as soon as she lets me.”

He nods. “Is it because of the tests we did?”

Charles shakes his head. “No, it’s because of me.”

He doesn’t explain his train of thought, but Erik thinks Charles looks worried. 

  
  


(Charles)

He wonders sometimes, considers his life without Raven in it. His life would be very different to say the least.  


They’re no longer children, siblings growing up together, fighting over who’s faster, over who can climb higher.

She’s a capable young woman who’s made a career for herself and earned the loyalty and respect of so many people.

Charles loves her unconditionally and he knows she feels the same. Even when they're at odds they both know that doesn’t change. 

The truth is that he doesn't want Raven anywhere near Shaw either. What they both want doesn’t change the situation. They’re all involved and he believes he can help, if she lets him.

There’s just one thing he needs to figure out first.

“Erik?”

“You’ve been here for hours. You should get some rest.”

He considers protesting, but he’s tired and aching and he knows Raven won’t make a move just yet. He’s not going to be able to help dead on his feet. He’s not going to be able to do much of anything if he’s exhausted.

“Alright,” he relents and watches Erik’s facial expression go from ready to fight to relief.  “Would you mind fetching my wheelchair?”

Erik looks surprised but more than happy to oblige.

“Don’t look so victorious, I didn’t even put up a fight.”

“I’ll be right back,” the taller man says, smiling proudly. 

He turns his attention to Hank who’s decided to park his bottom on the table. 

“So erm, mind control?” the scientist whispers softly.

That’s one way of kicking in that particular subject’s door.

“I’m scared, Hank.”

“You admitting that is scary. Can you freeze me?”

“I’m not sure I want to try.”

“I trust you, Charles.”

He laughs nervously. “You really want me to do this? Right now?”

“I don’t think you should do anything you’re not comfortable with-”

“I’m not.”

“But,” Hank continues, “with all that’s happening, it might be the right time to figure out how your mind works and what else you can do, and by right time I don’t mean tonight, but I’d be lying if I said no.”

Charles takes a deep breath. He’s never needed to leave his self-established comfort zone. He’s used to swimming around in people’s minds, prodding here and there if necessary to dig for further information, but beyond that… 

“Fuck.”

“That about sums it up,” Hank notes. 

“Yes. Yes, it does.”

“Your chariot has arrived,” Erik interrupts their conversation as he pushes Charles’ wheelchair inside. He frowns at the sudden silence. “What did I miss?”   
  
“Hank here wants me to freeze him.”

Erik puts the chair’s brakes on and helps him transfer with practiced ease. He shifts his gaze from Charles to Hank and back. “Or me,” he offers.

“Why are the two of you so calm about this?”

“We trust you,” Erik mirrors Hank’s earlier words unknowingly.

He wonders when he earned that kind of trust. Perhaps they’re right. Perhaps they’re not. All he needs is just a little bit longer to figure out what he wants to do. “I need a break, we’ll talk more tomorrow.”

“Fair enough,” Hank says, smiling sympathetically, understanding his reasoning. “You know where to find me if you need me.”

Charles returns the smile. “I do. Thank you, Hank. For everything.”   
  
“What did I say about thanking me?”

“I don’t seem to recall.” He shakes his head innocently.

It’s not Hank but Erik who rolls his eyes.

He starts pushing his wheelchair and takes him to the mess hall to pick some food. He watches Erik discuss something with the friendly lady behind the counter while browsing the available meals. They have a wide variety of healthy dishes, but Charles isn’t hungry. He opts for some vegetable soup and bread and allows Erik to take him back to their quarters. 

Magnet greets them with more than enough enthusiasm to last them quite a while. 

“Look what I brought you from the kitchen,” Erik announces, having his dog’s undivided attention. It explains Erik’s hushed conversation in the mess hall.

Charles rolls his eyes at the box of leftovers. “We’re spoiling him.”

“He deserves the attention.”

“True. He’s a great dog.” Magnet looks up at that, as if he understands.

“Let’s eat.”

Charles manages to eat the soup and most of the bread, but the food doesn't help his energy level. He’s still bone-tired. 

“Lie down, get some rest,” Erik advises, reading him extremely well. “You’ve had a busy day.”

“Alright. Would you mind helping me?”

“You don’t have to ask, Charles.”

“It’s just that you shouldn’t have to deal with this… any of this “

“I’d rather see you healthy and pain-free, but this is what it is. Perhaps I didn’t pick the situation, but I picked you. We deal with whatever happens. I love you, Charles.”

He really must be tired, he’s on the verge of tears. “Love you too,” he manages to reply, sounding a bit choked up.

Erik leans down and kisses him on the mouth, a deep loving kiss, perhaps even more vocal than his words.

  
  


(Erik)

He opens his eyes and finds Charles right beside him, staring at the ceiling. 

“Can’t sleep?” he asks. “Your leg?”

Charles turns his head on his pillow so he can look Erik straight in the eye. “Says the man who just woke up in the middle of the night. Leg’s fine. Well, given the circumstances.”

He throws a quick glance at the alarm clock on his left. It’s extremely early and Erik doubts Charles slept much at all. 

“Alright, enough. Fix this.”

“Sorry?”

“I have a feeling you’re not allowing yourself to repair the link between us.”

“And why would I do that?”

“I don’t know. You tell me. You were right here in my head when I got here. Clearer than ever I should add. Then you weren’t. Whatever it is you did I want you to undo it.”

“I don’t  _ know _ what I did. I think my mind was protecting itself at the time.” 

“Well can you… open the door?”

“It’s not that easy. I don’t know if- I don’t want to hurt you and I’m fucking scared if you must know. I’d like a bloody manual too right about now.”

He sits up a bit, leaning on his elbow and facing Charles. “Charles, you’re not going to hurt me, okay?”

“How do you know?”

“I just do. Besides the alternative seems to be that you bottle everything up until you get frustrated and then end up doing something you weren’t planning on.”

“Like freezing Raven,” Charles mumbles in reply.

“My working theory is that there’s nothing wrong with your mind, but that you’re not allowing yourself-” he stops when he feels Charles’ mind brushing against his, like a very soft and careful caress. He imagines opening the door to his own mind for Charles. He realises he’s smiling, can’t help himself. 

He can sense Charles smiling too, because it’s so easy and so comfortable and he missed this  _ oh so much _ . 

_ 'You were right,’ _ Charles tells him telepathically.

He can tell Charles is scared of hurting him somehow, of overstepping a boundary. Erik hates Shaw for it; seeing Charles like this, uncomfortable with his own abilities, hurts. Charles shouldn’t be afraid. Shaw is going to regret that, and everything else he’s done. 

_ 'Missed your presence so much.’ _

Erik isn’t sure if he’s relaying that or if Charles is, both perhaps. They fall asleep like that, minds entwined, allowing themselves a few more hours of sleep before having to face a day that’s bound to be demanding. 

  
  
  



	19. Chapter 19

(Charles)

 

He ambushes his sister outside one of the soundproof meeting rooms. He stands there for about ten minutes pretending he can’t hear what’s being said inside. Charles hears everything, of course, soundproof doesn’t mean telepath-proof. He’s not there to spy on his sister, though. When Raven’s people start filing out, he moves back a bit until his sister sees him and walks up to him.

“Charles.” She looks a bit apologetic.

They wait for two more people to leave before she walks back in, expecting him to follow her inside. At first he refuses to sit down, not entirely sure why. He stands there, leaning on his crutches while Raven presses a button to close the door behind them.

“What did you hear?” she asks straight away.

He could pretend the room is efficient enough to keep him out and it might even put her mind at ease, but they’re past that and it’d be a blatant lie.

“Not everything, some of it,” he answers vaguely, wanting her to lead the conversation and give the information freely. “You’re sending snipers,” he offers as an ice breaker.

“I am,” she confirms.

“I’m sorry, Raven,” he starts saying but she interrupts him before he can continue.

“I’m assuming you’re not saying sorry because I’m sending snipers.” She waves her hand, wanting him to continue.

Alright, she’s making him work for it, but that’s okay, he can do that. It’s more comfortable than any sort of silence between them. “Not quite, I’m saying sorry because I’m an ass.”

She smiles slightly. “You’re not, really. What you said wasn’t wrong,” she admits.

“My anger was,” he insists. He knows she means well and he’d do anything in his power to keep her safe.

She sits down in one of the seats, her eyes never leaving him.

“Are you going to sit down or continue standing there to prove your leg isn’t an issue?”

“We know each other too well,” he notes, following her example and sitting down next to her. She grabs his hand and gives it a squeeze. “Anything else you caught?”

“Only the last ten minutes or so.”

She nods. “I figured you’d missed the interesting chunk.”

“But you’re going to tell me now.”

“Geez, Charles.”

“Astounding deduction, I know.”

She slaps him on the chest. He missed their banter.

“After I calmed down last night Alexandrei talked some sense into me. He had some interesting things to say, about you. I don’t know where he got the idea but apparently you’re old enough to make your own decisions? I had to remind him that you’re older than I am.”

“I’m going to have to thank Alexandrei for that. He’s not a flowers kind of man is he?”

She bursts out laughing at the thought. “No, he’s more like me, so can’t promise I won’t snag his gift if you’re getting him a bottle of whiskey.”

She looks down at her hands for a second, then back at him. “Shaw’s been one step ahead of us the entire time. It seems obvious that whatever he’s doing is not the usual sort of manipulation.”

“Meaning?” Charles can guess, but he’d rather hear Raven’s view on Shaw and the possibility that he or his associates can do things which are highly unnatural, like read people’s minds or influence them.

“Meaning you’re not alone, which partly explains his interest in you, we think.”

“Except world domination isn’t on my list of things to achieve.”

Raven ignores the comment. “It would be reckless to send people out there not knowing how to defend ourselves against them. Alexandrei made it clear to me that we do know how to defend ourselves.”

“You’re talking about me, but I don’t know how to do that.”

“You can shield your own mind, I’m betting you can shield a few more, say my snipers and Erik and Logan? You won’t have to shield Alexandrei.”

“About that. I can’t read him or tell where he is, but are we absolutely sure they can’t?”

“About 99 percent sure. Shaw and Frost liked that about him since they suspected you wouldn’t be able to read him either.”

“Hmm, that’s one huge mistake I’m grateful for. I can definitely shield Erik and Logan, but I’ll have to meet your snipers and their spotters I’m assuming.”

“You can meet them here in two hours. I sent them off to gather their gear and prepare.”

“Have you considered using me as bait? Not that I’m very fond of the idea or volunteering for that matter, but-”

“Not an option,” she interrupts him.  “We have to move fast with the limited information we have about them.”

“What’s plan B if, say, your snipers can’t get a proper visual?”

“We knock, but I’d prefer to keep this extremely precise. Under no circumstances do I want you to go near Shaw or any of his people, especially Frost.”

He nods. “Since you suspect she’s doing the mind voodoo. Alright.”

“Promise me, Charles.”

They both know he can’t promise that; Erik will be there with him. She seems to understand what he’s thinking.

“You make Erik choose between protecting you and seeking revenge. I’m not sure what he’s seeking revenge for, but I can tell it sits pretty deep.”

“I trust Erik will do what’s right depending on the circumstances. I trust him, Raven.”

He can see Raven realises that’s about as satisfying an answer she’s going to get.

“Fair enough,” she concedes. “I had an interesting conversation with Wu about this op.”

“Who’s Wu?”

“Your doctor, Charles.”

“My doctor never gave me his name. I’m not trying to be obnoxious, Raven. Wait, it’s Wu? I can see why now,” he says with a slight smile.

She sighs. “I told him to stop doing that.”

“Poor man.”

“Yeah, well, before you start sympathising he said that this plan is ridiculous and you’re going to get yourself killed. He seemed to prefer that to having to put you back together again.

Charles can’t find words to respond to that.

“He means well, genuinely cares even, but has a very weird way of showing it.”

“I gathered.”  That does make one wonder why he became a doctor in the first place. The man is without doubt the scariest doctor he’s ever met.

Raven continues, “He’s a brilliant doctor and surgeon, we hired him after he got fired for the third time.”

“Because of his bedside manner?”

“Got it in one.” She gets up from her seat next to him. “Listen, Charles, I meant what I said. I’m taking a huge risk bringing you and Erik.”

Charles thinks she’d be taking a huge risk without them too, but he leaves that unsaid.

“I know, we appreciate it and I’ll be sure to pass it on.”

After Raven leaves he takes a few minutes to just sit there and breathe in order to process the information he just received. This could be it; they could be free of this entire suffocating situation and restart their lives. Charles doesn’t want to get his hopes up just yet. First he needs to find Erik, and then he needs to meet Raven’s people and see if he can actually do this.

 

\--

 

Erik’s walking his dog in the provided area above ground, near the barn, neatly out of the entrance’s sight obscured by farming tools and hay.

He spots the base’s gatekeeper next.

“Hello, Mr. Marlowe.”

“Morning, Charles. I thought I told you to call me Conrad. Everyone does.”

“Morning, Conrad,” he corrects himself, which earns him a genuine smile from the older balding man. “How’s your day going?”

“Same old same old,” he replies. Conrad Marlowe is a bit rough around the edges, but for some reason he always has a smile ready for Charles. He wonders why that is, given that everyone around the base seems to agree that the man hates life and is always grumpy. Not to him he isn’t.

“Is Erik back there by any chance?”

“He is.”

“Thank you, Conrad.”

“My pleasure.”

He slowly makes his way over to Erik and greets him with a quick kiss. Charles checks if they’re alone apart from Conrad, who’s out of hearing range, before telling Erik everything he knows, including Raven’s worries concerning his reaction to Shaw.

“To be honest I’m not sure what I’m going to do when I see him,” Erik admits.

Charles knows he wouldn’t have told anyone else that, except jokingly perhaps. Erik is opening up part of his soul to him.

“Promise me you’ll try to keep safe for me and in return I’ll try to keep safe for you?” he suggests.

“You sound like you think we’re going to die.”

“I’d rather not think that, but I need to know we’re on the same page.” He kisses Erik again to show what he means, that Erik is important to him.

Charles knows Conrad is staring at them from a distance, but there’s no judgment there, just simple curiosity. He wouldn’t expect any different from anyone hired by his sister. He senses an element of longing there too, as if Conrad’s a bit lonely.

He ends their kiss, confirming once more that Erik is still the best kisser he’s ever encountered.

“Who’ll watch Magnet?” he asks, throwing a glance at the dog. The dog looks up at him at the mention of his name.

“Hank already offered in case we ever needed a dog sitter.”

“That’s good. We’ll be back before he notices we’re gone.”

The dog tilts his head as if saying he begs to differ.

 

\---

 

Raven’s snipers, and their spotters, turn out to be decent and loyal people. It comes as a bit of a surprise when Raven announces she’ll go along as a sniper as well, Alexandrei her spotter. Apparently they make a very efficient duo. He doesn’t know the other two snipers, or their spotters: one woman and three men. Their minds feel vaguely familiar as if he’s crossed paths with them in the corridors at some point during his stay here.

He feels confident he can hide their minds as long as they don’t wander off too far. His reach might be limited.

“It’s not an exact science, I’m afraid,” he reminds everyone.

It’s one of his more passive abilities, one he’s grown accustomed to, or the idea of it at the very least. It comes quite natural whether he likes it or not.  As long as Erik’s there he should be okay. Erik has become his emotional anchor and he’s given Charles more confidence along the way. Simply speaking with him lifts his spirits and makes him see opportunities where he would normally see obstructions. Charles sees the road ahead now and while that road is not quite as visible as he’d like, he can certainly see the positives at the end of it. He’d do anything for some form of normalcy, as would Erik. There’s no reason they shouldn’t move forward with Raven’s plans.

He speaks with his doctor, not because the man is a pleasant fellow, but because he doesn’t want to be a liability. The man confirms that that’s exactly what he will be. He seems to soften up a bit after saying Charles is indeed a liability, but doesn’t apologise. Wu doesn’t have to; Charles can appreciate an honest opinion, one he’s convinced of himself if he’s entirely honest.

“Try to avoid further holes in your leg.”

It’s not as if he’s trying to get shot or stabbed on purpose, thank you very much. The doctor walks over to one of his cupboards and retrieves a small bottle of pills.

“Only take these in case of emergency.”

Charles is not entirely sure what that entails. “Pain killers?”

Wu nods. “Stronger than what you have. I’m going to go out on a limb and assume you’re going to need something a bit stronger if you’re going to go look for trouble.”

“Go out on limb?”

Wu raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t apologise for the choice of words. Frankly, the expression reads: ‘what are you going to do about it?’ Nothing, he guesses, except maybe decide that this man has some issues to work through. Not that he didn’t already know that. He’s not planning on taking any of the pills, but he puts the bottle in his pocket anyway.

“Thank you.” He _thinks_.

Wu looks surprised and mildly intrigued; Charles guesses people don’t usually thank him for his services.

\--

They leave the same day. The sooner they get there the better and they have a few hours of driving ahead of them. Raven decided on two vehicles, both headed for the same destination but via a slightly different route. The precaution is probably unnecessary, but no one is willing to risk anything they don’t have to.

Charles feels quite relaxed, sitting in the back of one of the vans, leaning against Erik.

“This part isn’t so bad,” he confesses. He can’t see much of Erik’s face with his own head against the other’s shoulder, but he’s certain, he _feels_ Erik is smiling at the comment. He supposes an uneventful drive can be comfortable if he doesn’t consider what’s about to unfold. He stays in that moment for most of the drive, right up until the vans reunite at the pre-assigned checkpoint. They regroup, reaffirm their plan and duties before moving out. The cabin is not far now.

He reaches out with his mind, pretends it’s a screen he can extend to the others; most of all he clings to the hope that it will suffice. He’s never been this nervous, not even in college and not even on stage. It’s an anxious feeling in his gut, not the sort of benign thrill that comes with being in front of an audience.

“Whatever happens _happens_ ,” Erik tells him, sensing his anxious demeanor, or rather his mind jumping from one place to the other. _Stop fretting_ would be an accurate translation of Erik’s words. A shiver travels down his spine, but the light breeze has nothing to do with the sensation.

“Not as simple as presenting the findings of your genetics research in front of your classmates, I’m afraid.”

“Nothing simple about that either.”

“But it was easy enough to get used to,” he counters with a sigh, but then presenting wasn’t a matter of life or death. His professors were decent human beings, perhaps with their own flaws, but they always seemed to be reasonable enough. His college life was far from perfect, but it helped turn him into the man he is today. He got into a little trouble now and then, liked the local pubs and their lagers, but he never did anything to harm his reputation permanently. He respected his peers, his professors and their assistants even when he disagreed with them. He always gave everyone the benefit of the doubt. Only once he initiated a conflict and that was only because he suspected one of the assistant professors was showing a little too much interest in the women on campus. Alright, he knew the man was bothering his professor’s female students, but he didn’t know the assistant in question and how was he supposed to explain that he just knew about it? That year an anonymous letter found its way into the right hands and the women on campus breathed a little easier. Other than that he never interfered or used his knowledge or _hunches_ to gain something or discredit someone, not in college anyway. He never cheated, never crossed the line of his own moral code. He didn’t even cross that moral line when he started helping the police every now and then. He pissed people off and definitely initiated conflict, but he never crossed his own moral boundaries.

“I might today,” he says out loud, not sure if Erik caught up with his rambling mind. “Cross a line, I mean,” he explains himself just in case.

“There’s no need to think about that right now. We’ll find out soon enough, but either way you are _you_ , Charles.  You’ll do what you think is best. That’s good enough for me.”

He gives him a quick grateful smile before turning around to see Raven sneaking up behind them.

“Hi, Raven.”

“Sneaking up behind your telepath brother?” Erik asks.

“Actually, I’m checking if my brother is focused.”

“Why thank you for the vote of confidence. Yes, Raven I can tell where everyone is.”

“Even Alexandrei?”

“He’s more complicated. I can’t read him, but I think I can pinpoint where the absence of his thoughts is at.” He hopes his words don’t sound as creepy as he thinks _. The absence of thoughts. Really, Charles? That’s a new one_.

His sister simply nods. “Alright. We’re ready.”

He already knows they have to hike the last part of their journey to the cabin, but he’s grateful she doesn’t ask if he will be okay, if he can manage. He’s here and he’s not going anywhere. He just needs to get close enough to keep everyone hidden and hopefully safe.

He and Erik follow the others, staying at the back. He understands Raven’s reasoning there, and quite frankly he wouldn’t want it any other way, liability and all.

He moves at a steady pace, one crutch to support his gait, and Erik by his side.

“Ask if you need help,” Erik whispers. Erik sounds like he has complete and utter faith in him, but is casually offering a little support just in case.

“Thanks. I will,” he promises. The terrain is not that rough, he should be okay.  He’s okay for now.  He doesn’t have a choice, he has to be.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologise for taking so long. Every time I seem to have things planned out life has its way of intervening. Been sick for over two months and life’s been a bit of an emotional rollercoaster because of it. Had a chronic stomach infection and a pretty severe reaction to prescribed anti-nausea meds. I also lost someone pretty close to me. All of that led to my brain being pretty non-functional for a while. I really am sorry and hope you continue to enjoy this. I do plan on finishing this. Mistakes and such are still mine. As always I'll try to update a bit faster, I know it sucks to have to wait. Thanks for all the kudos and comments so far. They do motivate me (even though you wouldn't say with all the delays).

(Charles)

“What’s it like?” Erik asks, all of a sudden. They’re moving at a steady pace near the main path leading to the cabin, but far enough away from it to stay out of sight. Raven gave them all an earpiece should they need to spread out, something very likely.

“What’s what like?”

Erik points his index finger to his own head. “I mean, having you in my head gives me an idea, but it doesn’t quite cover it, does it?”

They’re whispering even while they still have a way to go and even though Charles can tell when they need to be quiet.

“I’m not sure now is the right time to discuss this?” Charles replies, making it sound like a question. Perhaps now is as good a time as any; it might distract him from the dirt, branches and leafs under his feet. Now might be the only time.

“Frightening,” he admits, just for Erik’s ears.

“Not knowing the full extent?”

“That too, but mostly the thought that if I allow myself to embrace it that I might lose control. As if I’m standing on the edge of a cliff and could fall off even with the tiniest of pushes. Like I’m stuck there and neither forward or backward is desirable at this moment.”

Somehow it helps to say it out loud, to put his thoughts into words and express them to Erik. Erik’s silent companionship is enough, too. Erik nods. The silence which follows is an understanding sort of solace, enough to put his mind at ease for a little while.

Their trek continues in silence, both of them left pondering similar considerations.  Charles hates that he’s slower than the others, but all in all he’s doing pretty okay for now. He’ll just have to deal with the fact that he has four people throwing glances at him to make sure he’s still with them. It keeps his mind off the more dangerous aspects of this ‘mission’.

They reach the cabin before he can truly start worrying again. Raven tells her people to split up and surround the cabin. They’ll wait for a bit, gauge the situation.

“Charles? What’s happening inside?”

Truth be told, his mind is already reaching toward the people inside the cabin. He exchanges a glance with his sister first, making sure she knows the risks or at the very least perceives them the way he does. She gives him a nod. Even without telepathy his sister always reads him well enough.

Raven relays a message to her teams of two; he can hear it through the earpiece. Since it’s not meant for him he decides to zone out and allow his mind to go further near the cabin. He expects to sense a mind or two near the entrance, but there’s no one there. It would be a relief if it weren’t odd and more than a little suspicious. The cabin isn’t empty, though, it’s just that those present don’t seem very worried about being discovered.

His mind floats past three people in the living room and two more in the study. They don’t sense his presence and it’s eerily easy to gather the information he needs from Shaw’s men. There’s no psychic shield protecting them, which tells him exactly what he already knew: these men are tools to Shaw, things he needs to reach his goals. Things he bought with money and possibly his ability to ignite fear in others.

Their minds seem to agree Shaw and Frost are upstairs and are not to be disturbed. The reasons seem to vary; one of the men thinks they’re enjoying an intimate moment. The man’s vivid imagination could be considered a bit troublesome. Instead of pondering the matter and running the risk of throwing up, Charles relays the information to his sister along with a plan that might just work if he’s careful.

“I’d rather try now while we have the element of surprise,” he adds.

He smiles for a split moment, because he can feel Erik’s impatience, _and_ his worry. He will cling to that familiar warmth of Erik’s mind. If anything can calm him down and prepare him for something he’s never done before, it’s Erik’s determination and love for him.

If he can freeze someone as strong-minded as Raven that easily, he’s pretty convinced he can do this too. He makes all of Shaw’s goons head to the study, one of the few rooms in the cabin without a window, but with a sturdy door. He has one of them lock the door and hide the key. Then he makes them forget the key’s location and tells them to fall into a deep sleep.

It feels a bit unfair to call them goons; they have names and various background stories and reasons to be there following Shaw’s orders, some more sympathy-inducing than others. Charles can’t bring himself to think about any of that; he needs to focus.

“Shaw’s men shouldn’t be a problem. Locked them in the study,” he says, directing his update to his sister.

Raven looks at him quizzically.

“They’re all asleep.”

“How convenient,” she notes dryly.

Logan hasn’t said a word the entire time, but if anything he looks a bit disappointed at the thought of not being able to punch someone. He’s not the only one who seems to regret the lack of action on their part. He sees the same sentiment on his sister’s face, and Erik’s.  Alexandrei’s face is a different matter. Alexandrei looks… hungry, Charles decides, which, he supposes, is quite similar after all. What or whom he wants to devour is another matter.

“I don’t think they know we’re here, I haven’t tried reading Shaw or Frost.”

“That’s good,” she commends. 

Charles can tell she’s proud of the risk he took and glad he did. The best case scenario is always the one without casualties, even if that scenario isn’t likely.

“Alright, we’re going inside, then.”

“Door’s unlocked,” Charles adds, “but I suggest the window on the east side; it leads to the kitchen. It’s ajar and not as noisy as the doors.”

It’s where a few of Shaw’s men have their cigarette breaks, out of fear of what Frost could do to them if she spots them smoking inside.

His sister looks impressed, but not overly surprised.

“Either way they might know the second we come closer to the cabin. I think I’d know,” Charles explains his reasoning.

“Charles I’d like you to shield our minds and as soon as you sense any resistance you focus on blocking Frost.” Raven doesn’t know how any of his abilities work, but she seems sure he knows exactly what to do. If only he had that amount of faith in his own doing and planning.

“I’m going to have to stay close for this to work.”

“I figured you’d say that. Just… not too close.” She throws Erik a look as well. “Both of you.”

The first part is easy enough by now. He refocuses on shielding their group from any psychic interference. The second part is a lot more unpredictable.  As difficult as it is not to snoop around until absolutely necessary he doesn’t reach out with his mind, not further than necessary. They can only hope Frost doesn’t have a contingency plan in place, something to alert them of their presence before he can do anything.

 

(Erik)

He’s functioning on automatic pilot, but it’s not a blur. He’s focused, enough to take action if needed or if he deems action necessary. He stays near Charles, at this point it’s not just a choice, it’s become an instinct of sorts.

Yes, this is important to him, and he’s not entirely sure how he’ll respond to seeing Shaw, but he has Charles with him, literally in his head; even while focused on their safety he can still feel him there, a comfort he’d never thought possible.

They stay at the bottom of the stairs until Raven calls out to them. Charles has his eyes closed in concentration. It’s quiet until a scream from upstairs pierces the cabin and Charles grabs the stairs’ armrest in front of him for support. The sound of pain that escapes Charles’ lips makes him feel torn between running upstairs to check what’s causing it and supporting Charles and tell him he’s right here with him. He opts for the second option and places his hand on top of Charles’ while keeping his other ready to catch him should he sway or fall.

Charles seems to be moving past the pain, a look of sheer determination on his face. He should be grateful he doesn’t feel what Charles is feeling right now, but he finds himself wishing he’d share some of the burden with him instead of suffering by himself.

It’s only when Charles reaches out to him and Erik catches him, allowing the other man to rest against his body, he can feel some of the strain on Charles’ mind, like the remnants of a very bad migraine. Charles is staring into nothing, or rather: straight through him. Right when he’s about to call for Raven he snaps out of his trance.  “It’s alright,” Charles says, his eyes finding him. “She’s unconscious. Frost is unconscious.” Erik continues to support him as some of the dizziness seeps through.

Logan comes down the steps first, making sure to warn them: “One surprisingly compliant psychopath coming down the stairs in a few minutes.” As nonchalant as he sounds, it’s a clear show of concern. Erik gives him an understanding nod.

“You okay there, Chuck? You look a little pale.”

Charles laughs at the question, an anxious sort of laugh.

“Marvellous, just marvellous. Might need to throw up at some point, though.”

“We haven’t even had drinks. Raven will be down in a minute she wants to talk to you. Maybe sit the fuck down?”

Logan is just his ever useful self, Erik thinks.

Charles barks a laugh, exhausted and yet appreciative of Logan’s very obvious concern. “I always look pale, I’m British,” he reminds them, making sure he holds on to Erik.

Shaw doesn’t resist at all when Alexandrei manhandles him down the stairs, none too gently.

“Charles! What a pleasant surprise. I thought that was your work. Emma’s sudden incompetence seemed out of place.” Of all things Shaw sounds chipper, even makes Alexandrei’s rather unfriendly treatment look like a breeze, as if he’s royalty trotting down the stairs expecting to be bowed down to. “You look quite well considering our last little rendez-vous.”

Charles doesn’t reply, ignores Shaw completely and looks up at Erik, searching his face.

Erik can feel Charles sending him every bit of strength he can muster. He’s completely distracted by _his_ British fool holding on to him, so worried about Erik’s safety and not his own. Charles’ mind draws him in, keeps him from wanting to snap Shaw’s neck. But not influencing, Charles is not controlling him. He’s just there and Erik knows the risk of doing something stupid and unexpected isn’t worth what he could lose in the process. Charles makes him _want_ to be careful, no matter how much he wants this monster to suffer.

When Shaw’s out of sight he takes a deep breath, a much needed desperate deep breath.

“He didn’t recognise you,” Charles voices what he’d been thinking himself.

“I was young.”

“He’s a narcissist,” Charles adds. “Entirely self-centred. It’s not an uncommon trait.”

“My mother was just another one of his projects, insignificant except for the money.” It hurts to say the words, to experience how meaningless Shaw makes his family seem. He didn’t necessarily expect Shaw to recognise him, but it still hurts to see the memory of his mother reduced to nothing.

 “You seem calm despite all of that.”

“I’m as surprised as you are,” he admits.

Charles shakes his head. “I’m not.” Apparently Charles is beginning to know his behaviour better than he himself does.

He should steer Charles to the car or get him to sit down somewhere safe until they know more, but right when he’s making the decision to drag Charles off, Raven comes down the stairs.

“They’re securing Frost,” she explains. “How long will she be unconscious?”

Charles gives them a guilty look. “Until I wake her up. It seemed like the safest way to protect everyone.”

“You put her in a coma, Charles?” she sounds slightly horrified, yet proud at the same time. Only his sister could manage that particular combo. “Shaw’s complying, I guess he’s not that much of a threat without his ice queen.”

“Not to be a spoilsport here, but doesn’t this seem…”

“Too easy?” Erik guesses.

“Emma’s mind felt _off_ to me. I don’t know why, but something didn’t feel right. And yes, I know I’m tired and need some down time.”

Raven tilts her head, considering her brother’s words. “You were putting her in a _coma_ , I’m sure that had something to do with it. Either way, we’re taking both of them to the base where we can discuss the pros and cons of our next step. If you’re worried and not too exhausted, frankly you look dead on your feet, you can continue shielding us.”

“I will,” Charles confirms, clearly already doing just that. “I should search Shaw’s mind.”

“You can do that at the base, _if necessary_. Whatever it is you’re thinking, you can think about it later. We’ve got it under control and you look about to topple over.”

She gives Erik a hard stare. “What about you? I still don’t know what your story is with Shaw, but you’re letting Charles use you as a human crutch instead of murdering him. As much as I’m grateful, I must admit I’m surprised.”

He should feel offended, he’s not.

“ _Raven_ ,” Charles objects.

“Contrary to popular belief, I’m not a loose cannon,” Erik defends himself, knowing fully well she has a point. Or would’ve had one in the past.

Charles chooses to intervene on his behalf, sensing his inner turmoil. “You realise that if there is a good reason to attack someone yours is a pretty decent reason. So not so much a loose cannon as a logical psychological response.”

Again, Charles and all of his faith in him and his actions. He doesn’t reply, he just holds on to Charles even tighter than before.

“Make yourselves comfortable while I take care of everything. We’re going back to the base as soon as possible.” She gives them a quick smile and a nod before heading outside to give the necessary orders to transfer her prisoners.

The journey back to the base takes forever. It frustrates him to the point where he wants to take over the wheel. He needs to get to the bottom of this, perhaps even more so than Raven and her operatives. He tries to bear it, bear the idea that he’s so close to answers but won’t have any by the end of the day.

As promised Charles keeps shielding him, all of them. It’s a constant safety net, but he can feel exhaustion and pain seep through their link.

“You know it’s okay to rest a bit, right?”

Charles is leaning against him again. “It’s not okay. You know I won’t relax until I know they can’t cause any further harm.”

“I know.” He kisses the top of Charles’ head affectionately. “Doesn’t mean I don’t get to worry.”

 “I love you, you know,” Charles tells him. He closes his eyes, his breath hitching.

 “Charles? How badly are you hurting?”

His reaction to the change in Charles’ breathing pattern is something he hasn’t experienced in a lot of years and they’ve dealt with a lot recently. It’s not just worry or fear; he recognises the sensation as panic, loss of control. It’s not an anxiety attack by any means, but he feels lost and helpless and scared. Quite frankly it tells him all he needs to know about what this relationship means to him.

Charles takes a deep breath but doesn’t open his eyes to reply. “I’ll be fine once we’re back.”

He sighs. “Please don’t do this again, Charles.”

Erik reaches for the bottle of pills in Charles pocket. It takes some manoeuvring, but he manages to retrieve the bottle without jostling Charles too much.

“I need you to be honest with me. Loving me means you have to take care of yourself… _for me_ ,” Erik explains, removing one of the pills.

“How did you know?”

“About the pills? Your doctor assumed correctly you wouldn’t take them without an extra nudge.”

“Confidentiality?” Charles manages to mumble as Erik pretty much shoves one of the pills in his mouth and helps him sip from a bottle of water.

“I don’t think he cares about that. You know him better than I do, you tell me.”

“Never mind.”

“I meant what I said,” Erik continues.

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“It’s alright. Given the circumstances I’ll let you off the hook.”

“Groovy.”

“Damn those pills are fast.” Erik considers his own words, then decides Charles is just being Charles. He probably couldn’t tell if the pills were influencing him.

“I heard that.”

Erik smiles slightly. “For the record: I love you, too.”

When Charles gets quiet he shifts in his seat to get a better view of Charles, who’s looking at his hands, they’re trembling.  He looks pale, as well.

“Charles?” he tries, but Charles isn’t responding, just staring ahead now.

“I feel cold,” he admits after a nearly endless silence.

He presses his hand to Charles’ neck, checking if he is running a temperature. He decides that doesn’t seem to be the case.  “We’re almost there,” he says out loud, for Charles and himself. Once again he doesn’t receive a response and the worrisome silence is only broken a couple of miles further down the road. “It's alright. I think it’s alright,” Charles whispers, then closes his eyes, allowing his head to fall back against Erik’s shoulder.

“Charles?” Erik calls frantically, meanwhile feeling for a pulse. It’s there; it’s steady. He can breathe again. He’d yell for the driver to stop the van, but they’re almost at the base and he doubts there’s much they can do on the road. Charles had said it was alright. He’d said that. _Charles thinks he’s alright_. Perhaps he should focus on those words, trust them. Either way Erik will make damn sure that he is.


	21. Chapter 21

(Charles)

His hands are trembling, he’s freezing.

“Erik? Something’s wrong,” he says, sucking in some air in a desperate attempt to calm himself down.

The pressure in his head is nearly unbearable. He’s not sure where this comes from, just that he’s not feeling well. He can hear Erik’s voice in the distance, encouraging him to do something, breathe probably.

“I feel cold,” he manages to say, not catching Erik’s response to his statement.  Something’s pulling him under, taking advantage of his exhaustion to-

_…tell him something? To trust?_

He should be afraid of giving in to the request, the darkness and the cold ahead. He’s not. Charles reaches out to the cold tendrils with his mind, allows himself to slip into unconsciousness, but not before reassuring Erik, and himself, in the process.

“It’s alright. I think it’s alright.”

He’s surrounded by darkness except for a faint light coming from under a door.  He takes a deep breath, a moment to compose himself. The headache’s gone, there’s no pain and his mind feels unbound. It’s as if his body isn’t entirely there, not physically, but he can get up and move forward. Charles reaches for the knob and opens the door to the light which seems to be inviting him.

Whoever is responsible for creating it has a flair for symbolism, he decides.

Surprisingly, the door leads to a teenager’s bedroom, a small space, but inviting and functional.  There’s a comfortable-looking bed on one side, some posters on the wall and a desk on the other side, some books lined up against the wall. A young girl is sitting at the desk, she looks up at him, a knowing smile on her face.

“This must be so confusing,” she surmises. She moves her hand through her short blond hair and points to the bed.  “Sit down, we need to talk.”

Charles does, albeit apprehensively.

“What is this?” he asks.

“You know what this is.”

It’s not a dream, he knows that much.  He considers his surroundings. “This is a safe haven,” he guesses, “ _your_ safe haven, a mindscape.”

She gives him a short nod. “For a second there I was afraid you’d disappoint me, sugar. It’s probably not as fancy as your mind, but it’ll have to do. This is my contingency plan. I knew you’d come after us, or rather, I knew Lehnsherr would come after us.  Since the two of you look so comfortable around each other I knew it would only be a matter of time before your skills, Lehnsherr’s perseverance and your sister’s means would track us all down.” She raises her hand to stop him from interrupting. “Let me start by saying thank you, for not attacking me with your abilities. You’d overwhelm me.  I’m not happy to admit that, but there’s no need to use them. In my current state you could kill me with a single thought if you wanted to.”

“Emma,” Charles starts, but she stops him again. He’s not sure why he uses her first name.

“And for saving me.  _Thank you_.”  She sounds grateful, genuinely grateful.

“You’re in a coma,” he counters.

“That’s only one side of it. You unshackled me in the process.”

Charles would respond to that, should respond to that. Instead he finds himself staring at the young version of Shaw’s accomplice, dumb-founded. She picks up on his confusion, of course.

“There’s so much you don’t know yet, darling.”

“So, explain?”

His patience is running thin, his worry for Erik rearing its head. His curiosity, on the other hand, is very willing to hear her out.

“Erik is fine,” she says, using Erik’s first name for the first time, _daring_ to use it in front of him. She seems scared. “You know that. Worried about you, but he’ll be fine once you wake up. He… hasn’t been this hopeful in a long time. When I murdered his mother I feared he’d get himself killed in a rage.”

Charles doesn’t bother hiding the glare on his face. “Start explaining, because right about now an explanation is the only thing keeping me from testing the strength of your little mindscape.”

“Shaw is like us. Not entirely like us, but very similar.”

“Go on.” He thinks he should’ve tried reading Shaw’s mind at the cabin, against his sister’s orders.

“You can’t read him or influence him, or shield yourself from him,” she responds to his thoughts. “That’s where he differs from us. The helmet he used on you was mostly to keep you from influencing me or the others. He knows you’re stronger than I am. He wanted you to replace me or, perhaps, use the both of us. He can influence people, but unlike us his range is fairly limited and he can’t read people. He needed me for his bigger scams.”

“He kept you prisoner, made you influence others,” Charles guesses.

“He knew how long it took for his influence to wear off. He’d need to rest, _recharge_. He had a solution for that.”

“The helmet.”

“I hated that thing so much. I thought I’d never get away from him.”

It’s a lot to process, but Charles senses a lot of honesty in her words.

“I don’t expect you to believe or trust me,” she continues, “You can keep me in that coma for as long as you want, but know that _this_ is exactly what he wants. He’s biding his time and when the right moment comes along he’ll destroy everything on his path.  And you just took him to the one place he wants destroyed, the people he wants dead.”

Charles remains quiet, letting her speak.

“Believe me or don’t, it’s your choice now. I only want to ask you not to wake me up unless Shaw is dead. _Promise me_.”

He’d be a fool not to consider her words.

“I can’t promise that,” he says, “but I’ll consider it.”

There’s a look of relief on her face, telling him she knows he means it.  “I can live with that.”

He looks around the room again. “How do I leave?”

“You’ll be out of my range soon, but if your curiosity is satisfied you can just leave the way you came.”

He gets up but doesn’t make it to the door, their minds disconnecting.

 

(Erik)

Hank tells him Charles is fine, from the looks of it he’s just sleeping. _From the looks_ _of it_ isn’t the sort of medical reassurance he’s looking for but Hank says Wu is on his way and Charles does look like he isn’t in distress.

“He always says it’s not an exact science,” Hank offers.

If Charles’ abilities were predictable or measurable he probably wouldn’t be sitting here at his bedside. It’s not a comfort and it doesn’t make him worry any less.

“He looks like a lab rat,” Erik notes, mostly referring to the electrodes and other wires. He supposes it’s a comfort there’s nothing odd about Charles’ brain activity, for Charles anyway, because according to Hank Charles’ brain activity looks different anyway. He has old documents for comparison. Nothing to worry about, not yet, he’s just asleep.

Erik holds on to Charles’ hand as he tries to reach out to his mind, through their link. He doesn’t get a reply or a sensation of warmth or any other sign that he’s there and hears and feels his presence. If he had to describe the current state of their link he’d say it felt as if Charles is shielding himself, but he’s by no means an expert.  So he waits and tries not to think about the fact that they’re in the same facility as the people who killed his mother.  Raven had better come up here soon and talk to him. He knows she will, at the very least to check on her brother.

It ends up being Logan who pops his head in first. He moves to the other side of the bed and looks down at Charles, sighing in the process. “I thought I told you take better care of yourself?”

 “I should be back soon, but press that button over there if something’s wrong,” Hank excuses himself to go look for the doctor himself, leaving the two of them alone with Charles.

“Where the hell is everyone?” Erik asks Logan. He doesn’t bother looking up, eyes only on one person. He asks because he should probably care about the empty corridors and the empty infirmary.

“Raven called for emergency meetings. I should be up there too.”

That _does_ cause his gaze to flicker from Charles to Logan and right back to Charles. “Yet you’re not. I guess he has that effect on people.”

“Unfortunately not just on us. Shaw seemed…”

“I think intoxicated might be the word.”

Logan huffs a laugh. “Okay, Chuck. Enough of this.”

Erik sees the movement from the corner of his eye, but he’s already too late by the time his brain registers what is happening. The yelp coming from the bed only confirms that Logan just punched Charles in the arm.

“Bloody hell,” Charles cries out, the words followed by a moan. Charles is wide awake, staring at the both of them in shock.

Erik is up on his feet immediately, still holding Charles’ hand in his own. He throws a glare at Logan. “What the fuck is wrong with you, man?”

Logan shrugs in reply. “He’s awake.”

Erik ignores the comment. “Charles? Are you alright?”

The blue eyes are keeping track of his every move. “That’s going to leave a bruise. I’m alright, I think.” He looks around the infirmary. “We’re back?”

At least Charles seems to remember everything. He nods. He wants to ask what happened, but Charles is ahead of him.

“I need to talk to Raven. _Now_. Everyone here might be in danger.”

Of course Charles’ doctor picks that moment to walk in, Hank tailing him.  The timing couldn’t be worse, or better.

Charles tries to sit up but Logan pushes him back down before Erik can do it.

“I’m fine. I’m awake,” Charles tells them. “The only physical injury I have is the bruise you just gave me.” He directs his look at Logan. “I guess that makes us even.” The two of them share a knowing look; there’s a story there somewhere, Erik will have to inquire at some point in the near future.

Wu intervenes on their behalf. “You didn’t aggravate your leg then? You weren’t in a peculiar sleep-state for the last few hours? And I’m sure you didn’t do anything risky while out there in the woods.”

“It doesn’t matter. Look, I promise I’ll come back once I speak with Raven. I can’t exactly ask her to come over here.”

Wu sighs and walks past the bed, over to one of the desks in the room. He sits down and starts making notes.

“Is that a yes?” Charles wonders out loud. Wu doesn’t reply, ignoring them completely, just like Charles is ignoring his advice. That’s one way of getting a point across, Erik supposes.

“I… think so,” Hank says. “I’ll get you a wheelchair.”

Erik can see Charles was hoping for the crutches, but he’d be outvoted by everyone in the room. They’re enabling him enough by letting him out of bed in the first place. Charles only allows Erik to push his wheelchair because it’s the fastest option.

“Hank? What happened to Shaw’s hideout after Alexandrei got me out?”

“They left in a hurry after they found out you were gone,” the young scientist explains, keeping pace with them.

“Did they leave anything?”

“From what I remember from the briefing they didn’t retrieve much, nothing of importance anyway. It looked as if they grabbed a few things and left, not bothering to cover their tracks.”

Erik can tell that part makes sense to Charles, but he’s not quite sure what the telepath is getting at.

“The cabin?”

Hank shakes his head. “I’m not sure, Raven might still have people searching the place. I know they’ve been storing some things in the vault.”

Erik considers interrupting but decides against it, by now this place shouldn’t surprise him anymore. Of course there’s a vault.

“Do you have access?”

“Wh- Yes, I do, I use it to store fragile and valuable research material.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

To Erik’s surprise, Hank doesn’t object at all, just nods and waits for Charles to continue.

“I need you to look for a helmet. If it’s there I’d like you to find out what kind of material it’s made of.”

“Alright. Raven should be in the main conference room, if not-”

Tapping his head with a finger, Charles says: “I’ll find her, Hank. We’ll be okay.”

The two of them and Logan take the lift up. This section of the facility isn’t empty at all, it’s a madhouse of operatives and other personnel running themselves ragged.

(Charles)

This is taking too long, Charles thinks. They don’t know what Shaw is planning, let alone his schedule.  He’ll have to be direct about this.

“Erik, wait a minute.”

Erik knows what he’s thinking, accepts the idea with a nod. His sister will be less pleased with his way of telling her about Emma Frost. She’ll have to forgive him for this indiscretion. If getting in her head saves them valuable time then she’ll have to deal with it. He delivers the information to both Erik, Raven and Logan at the same time. It only takes a second to forward his own memory of Frost’s mindscape.

‘ _I’m sorry if that was overwhelming_ ,’ he sends to the three of them. _‘It’s just that I… It’s faster.’_

Raven doesn’t seem upset about the breach of her privacy but he chooses to address her feelings on the matter anyway: ‘ _You can hate me later._ ’

His sister’s up and about, moving away from the conference room, determined to figure out what to do next with the information.

Charles tilts his head backwards, so he can see Erik’s face above him. He’s still standing in the same position as earlier but he can tell his grip on the handles of his wheelchair has become a sort of death grip. If he weren’t in the other man’s head he wouldn’t know what he was thinking.

“It’s alright to be angry,” he says rather helplessly.

“You seem sure that she’s telling the truth, that this is not some kind of trick?”

“I can’t explain why exactly, but I’m pretty convinced, yes. I believe she was being earnest. The fear seemed real. She seemed genuinely angry and traumatised.”

He certainly doesn’t expect Erik to feel sympathetic towards her, that’s asking too much.

“What do we do?” Erik asks.

“I don’t know if there’s much we can do.”

He can only consider what he knows and what he’s experienced.

 _‘Raven?’_ he tries contacting his sister again, holding his index and middle finger to his temple.

_‘Yes, Charles. I’m a little busy at the moment.’_

_‘Get Alexandrei in there to guard him and get your other men out. We’re going to have to hope he can’t influence anyone from a distance. And let’s hope Alexandrei is distracting enough for Shaw not to realise what we’re doing. Do you have cameras in there?’_

_‘Of course.’_

_‘Alright, Alexandrei is the only person to enter the cells for the moment._ ’

_‘Consider it done.’_

“Erik?” He looks up again to read Erik’s expression; he seems to be lost in thought.

“So now we wait for Hank to find that helmet? If it’s here at all.”

“If it kept him from influencing me and me from influencing his people, we could use it.”

“That’s a lot of ifs,” Erik reasons.

“He wants something.”

“So we’re assuming he won’t try anything until he figures it’s the right time for him to show us his hand?”

“And we’re hoping that if he does manage to influence anyone before we get that helmet on him, I can undo it.”

“As long as we remember that Emma Frost is the one who gave us this advantage.”

“If you have a different plan, I’d like to hear it.”

Charles isn’t judging Erik by any means; he wishes they had a better plan than this, with more chance of success. It doesn’t look like he does. 

“Do or die?”

Charles nods. “I’m afraid so.”

Logan hasn’t said much the entire time, but he decides to add to the conversation now: “I’m going to go to Raven and see what she needs. Will the two of you be okay in the meantime?” Clearly Logan’s been going over options himself, eager to share them with Raven.

“We’ll be fine,” they assure, almost in unison.

Erik starts pushing his wheelchair in a different direction.

“Where are we going?” Charles asks once Logan is out of sight.

“Our quarters, where I want you to rest while I look for Hank and see if he’s made progress finding this thing.”

Charles wants to protest, but Erik has a point. There’s not much he can do right now, not until Raven and Hank know more. If he needs to help he’s going to need his mind, preferably properly rested.

“Alright,” he gives in. “But you’re going to have to wake me up as soon as you have it.”

Erik lifts an eyebrow in surprise, but continues pushing the wheelchair. “Deal,” he says.

 

(Erik)

He waits till Charles is asleep and allows himself a short moment to watch him breathe, reassure himself. No one knows how any of this is going to pan out. He gets up from the bed and rushes to the vault entrance, one floor below them.

He finds Hank entering security codes.

“What’s wrong?” he asks, coming up beside the scientist. He imagined Hank would be inside by now, looking for the helmet.

“The system is not accepting my identification codes.”

Erik takes a closer look at the security panel and the error message.

“I’ve tried what I know. I should tell Raven.”

“Let me try,” Erik suggests. “I might know a thing or two about hacking security servers and manual overrides.”

The chances Raven is behind these changes are pretty slim. If Erik can figure out the problem it’ll save them precious time.

The front panel comes away easily, revealing a bunch of wires and familiar electronics.

“Give me a few minutes,” he tells Hank.

It takes a little longer than a few minutes, the system more complicated than the ones he used to install in rich customers’ houses.  Hank looks impressed when the vault door opens up for them.

“Let’s find that helmet,” he says matter-of-factly.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well, Shaw's an asshole with another party trick up his sleeve. Oh, and he loves the sound of his own voice, especially when he's being a sadist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next update might take a bit longer, I'm going to pretty busy. But I'm gonna do my best to make the wait as short as possible.

(Charles)

 

An indistinguishable noise rouses him at 5:30 a.m. His sleep-deprived brain is a bit foggy on why that is of importance when he first looks at the illuminated numbers on the alarm clock to his right.

 _Erik isn’t here. Erik didn’t wake him up. Something’s wrong_.

The memories of the day before come back, all at once; the intense panic is too immobilising for his body to react to the thoughts.

 _Calm the fuck down_ , he tells himself, as he shifts in bed and leans on his elbows. Charles looks around as if there’s some clue in their quarters. Of course there’s just the dark; their bedroom looks exactly the way it did the evening before.

He considers Wu’s advice for exactly half a minute before deciding he doesn’t have time to worry about himself while he’s worrying about everyone else.  Yes, his leg is complaining, more than before. Yes, he’s probably not doing himself any favours. Contrary to popular believe he does care about his own health, it’s just that he likes to believe he’s got his priorities straight. With a bit of manoeuvring he manages to get himself into the wheelchair waiting next to the bed. His crutches are nowhere to be seen, but he supposes that was the idea. He’s glad he changed into something a bit more comfortable before lying down the day before; he doesn’t have time for any of that now. Charles does take the time the time to swallow another of Wu’s pain pills, knowing he’ll need it. He pockets the bottle.

His telepathy seems to be failing him; he can’t feel Erik’s mind, or Hank’s. In fact, once his mind’s fully awake he realises he can only sense four active minds: Raven, one of her operatives, Logan, and Shaw. Everyone else is still there just distant as if they’re all asleep or unconscious, like Emma’s.

 _‘Raven?’_ he tries.

_‘Oh my God, Charles?’_

_‘What’s going on? Where are you?’_

‘ _The main conference room. We can’t get out, the override isn’t working. I don’t think anyone knows we’re in here_.’

When Charles exits his quarters he spots two scientists, both unconscious on the corridor floor.

‘ _I fear that might be the least of our problems_.’

_‘What’s that supposed to mean?’_

He rolls over to their location and feels for a pulse. Some slight wheelchair gymnastics are required to reach for the scientists’ pulse points. Charles manages both confirming they’re still breathing and not falling out of the wheelchair.

_‘Raven, I can only feel your mind and the mind of the two people with you. The others seem to be in some state of unconsciousness.’_

_‘Fuck,’_ she thinks helpfully.

Charles tries to enter their minds, search for a way to bring them back to the living. What he discovers is unsettling. Both of these scientists seem… brain damaged somehow. He couldn’t wake them up if he wanted to.

 _‘I’m taking the lift up, see if I can get you out of there.’_ He doesn’t mention his discovery just yet not entirely sure what it means. He’d rather explain face to face.

_‘Be careful.’_

_‘You too.’_

He chauffeurs his own wheelchair to the lift without even thinking about it. His mind is too busy to focus on what his body is doing. His thoughts are a collection of macabre and unhelpful ponderings. He should get this feeling of dread over with, Erik and Hank’s minds feel unconscious too. He should reach out and find out if they’re okay. He doesn’t want to consider the alternative. Making up his mind, he reaches out for Erik’s unique mind.

_‘Erik?’_

Charles believes he’s stopped breathing in the last few seconds.

Their connection flickers, yet Erik doesn’t reply. It’s not quite the relief he’s hoping for but their bond reacting to his slight mental poke is something.

 _‘Erik? Come on, please hear me.’_ He didn’t know he could sound that desperate through a mind link. He can.

He jumps when the lift pings to tell him he’s arrived on the right floor. He heads into the corridor but stops there to focus on Erik.

He feels Erik’s disorientation now. _‘Yes, Erik. Wake up,’_ he encourages gently.

_‘Charles?’_

Just that, his name, and Charles is breathing again. ‘Are you alright?’

Erik seems to be coughing now, or rather: hacking up a lung.

_‘I’m good, I think.’_

_‘Hank?’_ he asks next.

_‘Alive, let me see if I can get him to wake up.’_

_‘Thank you.’_

A few minutes later Erik confirms what his mind is suddenly telling him as well: Hank is alright. His mind is active and alert.

 _‘What happened?’_ he asks Erik.

_‘The oxygen got sucked out of the vault. We lost consciousness. It must’ve stopped.’_

If he’d consider his own thinking all over the place, Erik’s thinking was, well, worse. Knowing his friends are at least alive, he heads to the conference room, never losing track of Erik’s presence.

_‘The alarm here isn’t working and we can’t get out.’_

He rolls past three bodies on his way to the conference room.  They’ve been dead for quite a while.

 _‘I’m in front of the main conference room right now. Going to see if I can get Raven and Logan out, then I’ll come down.’_ He sighs. _‘I’ve found three bodies and two scientists in need of medical assistance. I think they’re brain damaged.’_ He doesn’t need to be a doctor to know there’s not much anyone can do for them, but Charles refuses to lose hope, stubborn as he is.

After a short silence Erik seems determined. _‘We’ll try to break out from this side in the meantime. Be safe, Charles.’_

_‘You too.’_

No matter which way they look at the current situation, Raven’s base has turned into a playing ground and it’s not their playing ground; Shaw is the bully terrorising anyone in his vicinity.

He presses the conference room’s call button, then remembers they’re not going to be able to hear each other. _‘I’m here’_ , he tells his sister. How is he supposed to get them out?

_‘There should be a metal panel above the door.  You’ll find a keypad underneath.’_

Of course there is, above the bloody door, which is too high for him to reach even if he were standing up.  Looking around the empty corridor leads to nothing at all. He moves his wheelchair closer to the door and puts his brakes on.

_‘I might have an idea for your suggestion box once all of this is over, regarding the location of your back-up systems.’_

He’d laugh at his own anxiety-driven joke, but he needs all of his concentration to keep his balance as he climbs on the wheelchair’s seat with only one fully functional leg to support his weight. He’s really glad he took one of those pills. He stands there for a moment allowing reality to sink in: he still can’t reach the bloody thing. That’s just swell, he thinks.

_‘I’m not going to be demanding hazard pay for this, but some appreciation will be nice if this works.’_

_‘Charles, you sound more nervous than at the cabin.’_

_‘I wasn’t performing circus tricks at the cabin,’_ he throws back, but realises his sister would probably beg to differ.

Charles takes a deep breath and lifts his bad leg on the chair’s arm first. It hurts but not as bad as putting weight on it. He’s literally begging the chair not to topple over as he tries to spread his weight and keep his balance. He has both of his legs on the arm rests now. All he needs to do is stand up and reach for the metal panel. He can do this. A few moments later his leg is screaming, but on the bright side he’s balanced precariously on his wheelchair and within reach of the metal cover, which he removes and drops on the floor.

_‘The code?’_

_‘3726247.’_

He punches in the number followed by the green verify button. _‘I entered the code.’_

 _‘Try again. The door’s still locked. 3726247,’_ she repeats.

He tries again, and a third and a fourth time.

 _‘Is there anything else I can try?’_ he asks.

_‘Apart from blowing a hole in the wall? Not really, no.’_

He lowers himself down into the wheelchair again. _‘Raven? Did the three of you lose consciousness at any point?’_

_‘No, Why? What’s going on out there?’_

He can feel her frustration at the lack of control over the situation. He’d be going mad himself.

_‘I found some of your people dead, others unconscious. I managed to speak with Erik earlier, he and Hank are in the vault, the oxygen was sucked out of the room for a while. They lost consciousness too, but I got them to wake up. They’re alright.’_

_‘Go find someone to help you, blow an actual hole in the wall if you have to. Get Erik and Hank first. The vault has a similar keypad with the same override code. And be careful, Charles.’_

Everyone seems to be telling him that.

_‘I will. You, too. And nice touch, by the way.’_

_‘What do you mean?’_

_‘The override code.’ *_

_‘You figured that one out, did you?’_

_‘Love you, too,_ ’ he tells his baby sister.

He hurries back to the lift and takes it two floors down to the basement floor. He can’t help looking to the left, the corridor which leads to the cells. He half expects Shaw to wait there for him, at the end of the corridor. He could really use Erik’s help and determination. The vault is to his right and around the corner.

“Erik? Can you hear me?”

“We’re here,” Erik confirms from the other side of the steel door.

“I have an override code. I’m going to try it, but it didn’t work for Raven,” he clarifies, trying not to get anyone’s hopes up.

He looks up and rolls his eyes when he spots the metal cover above the massive door.

Here we go again, he thinks, positioning himself and reaching for his brakes again. This time he doesn’t have to climb on the arm rest, something his leg is grateful for. He almost wills the code to work when he pushes the buttons. The keypad doesn’t seem to want to heed his request, though.

 _‘Erik? I can’t get in.’_ he switches to their link, it’s more convenient than yelling at each other.

_‘I feared as much. I should be able to hack the system from here, but it’s behaving abnormally.’_

_‘What do I do?’_

_‘Get yourself to safety and get help.’_

He hesitates. He can’t just leave, but his options are limited.

 _‘I’ll come back with help,_ ’ he decides. _‘Hang in there.’_

In theory it’s a decent enough plan given the circumstances. He’d prefer a plan centring on more immediate action, but he’ll have to accept reality and the sooner he does that the sooner he can get his friends out of the facility.

Except reality isn’t nearly as simple because for some reason the lift stopped working as well.

“This is just…” He wants to laughs hysterically and cry at the same time. The scary part is that he knows all of this isn’t just a coincidence, far from it. And for some reason he keeps imagining Shaw in the corridor, beckoning him to come visit him in his cell. He hasn’t let his mind go near him, except when he checked the underground facility looking for conscious minds. He does go near him now, he can’t read him anyway.

Charles is a little surprised but nearly ecstatic when he senses a familiar void there. That settles it for him. He can’t get off this floor, but he can go over there and face Shaw and see if Alexandrei is really there. His mind could very well be playing tricks on him. He could be in Shaw’s range for all he knows.

When he reaches the metal door to the cells he pauses for a moment, wondering if this one will be closed as well. He doesn’t expect it to be; he expects this to be part of the plan. He is proven right when the door budges. He spots multiple unoccupied cells to his left and right, but he heads further into the room, knowing Shaw’s in the glass isolation cell at the end.

“Charles? Is that you?”

He jumps a bit, he hadn’t seen the Russian sitting there in the far corner, neatly out of sight. He assumes that’s his whole point, but doesn’t comment on the matter.

“How long have you been down here?” he asks, wondering if he’s even aware of what’s going on beyond this part of the facility.

“Since yesterday night. Raven’s orders,” the taller man confirms his theory. “You shouldn’t be down here, he could-“

“That was my suggestion. If I seem odd or malevolent, please knock me out. Or rather,” he grabs Alexandrei’s hand and brings it to the side of his throat.

“I know about pressure points,” Alexandrei states simply, rendering his instructions superfluous. “Problem, you said?”

Charles explains everything again, which feels like the tenth time by now. Fortunately Alexandrei is the type of man who spends less time conversing, more time reacting. He can only guess what’s on the Russian’s mind, but he follows him through the door to Shaw’s cell anyway.

They’re in a smaller room now, a large glass box containing Shaw in the middle of the room. The box has a ventilation system, a food hatch and on the inside Shaw has access to a tap and a cot. It’s not much, but a lot more comfortable than the basement Shaw put him in.

“You might want to turn around, this could get bloody,” Alexandrei says coolly, as if describing a daily activity.

He should probably react; the Geneva Convention comes to mind. He’s tired and his body slow to respond, and in all honesty he wants to see where this leads, know what Shaw’s plans are.

He should’ve guessed, though. If Shaw has control over the entire facility’s doors he has control over his own cell’s door too.

Shaw looks unimpressed, standing there in his cell.

“Nu vse, tebe pizda,” Alexandrei says, slamming his fist on the glass wall.  **

What that means is a mystery to Charles, but if he were to make a wild guess he’d say Shaw ought to feel insulted. The venom in Alexandrei’s voice alone is enough to carry the message.

Shaw smiles at the both of them. “And another miscalculation,” he comments.

Charles sighs. “What do you want? Except gloat.”

Shaw tsks in disapproval. “Manners, Charles. For now I’d like your compliance. That is if you ever want to get out of this place or see your dear sister and friends again. I think Erik would love to see his pretty psychic again as well. He’s a special man, unique even: equally strong on the inside and outside. Would be a shame to lose such a man. I could see it in his eyes when I first met him. Apart from his mother’s money it was a pleasure to see how her dead would affect him.”

Charles tries to mask the shock at Shaw’s admission, but their ‘prisoner’ seems to be able to read his face anyway.

“Oh Charles, did you honestly believe I didn’t recognise him? The look on both of your faces was worth it, trying to ignore me. And your sister, she’s lovely, isn’t she? Beautiful and so strong as well. I can tell you like to be surrounded by feisty people. ”

He pauses for a moment. “Are you not wondering how I managed all of this?” he says, clearly meaning the facility lockdown.

“You’re about to tell us.” He tries to remain patient, his brain trying to come up with a way out of this situation.

“You’ve figured out most of it. I applaud that. I expected extra guards, I would’ve had so much fun toying with them, making them fight each other. You just missed one vital part: I may not be as clever as you when it comes to influencing minds, but I work miracles when it comes to technology. It’s second nature. And this base, it’s marvellous, all the wires, security systems and gadgets. I’m having the time of my life. Especially digging my way through the ventilation system was a joy.”

It’s what he’d feared. Charles had considered the possibility of Shaw connecting to the base’s infrastructure. It's the only thing explaining everything.

He tries to take in a few slow breaths to calm himself down, before repeating his earlier query. “What do you want?” He stresses every word in a ridiculously calm sort of anger.

Shaw hasn’t stopped smiling the entire time. “I wanted revenge. I offered you a position amongst my people. You said no, you _refused_ to work with me. Now I want to see you comply, Charles. You’re going to do exactly what I say and make an important choice in the next few minutes. I’m going to have control over your life, like you had control over mine.”

It’s only then Shaw realises Charles still doesn’t remember him at all.

“I’ve pissed off a lot of people in the past,” Charles tries to reason. It’s silly; Shaw is going to take it personally no matter what he says or does.

He glances at Alexandrei for a moment, the man has been quiet the entire time, looking for an opportunity to turn the tables, Charles thinks. He wishes that were possible. They’re not going to like what Shaw says next.

“But I remember you. I remember how you told the police of my extracurricular activities. I know you bragged about it to one of the women over drinks. I wasn’t there, of course. The police dragged me out of the auditorium during one of my lectures. I found that experience highly unpleasant,” Shaw explains dryly.

Charles remembers that night, he’d had a few drinks too many. After writing that anonymous letter, he’d needed to wind down. His fellow female students had been relieved the police had arrested that monster. Charles had never been in one of Shaw’s classes; had only seen the man in passing and even then he’d barely looked at him. And his name hadn’t been Shaw or Schmidt.

“Professor Marken?”

“Up until you sent that letters and my peers started despising me.”

“You were _raping_ your students,” he says, exasperated. Not that it’s going to do him any good. Shaw clearly doesn’t see an issue there.

“They never complained about that to the authorities.”

Those girls had been so scared.  He never found out what it was Shaw used against them, or if it was just fear, which in itself was beyond enough. Perhaps he was already influencing people in some way, or all of the above.

None of this seems to surprise the Russian next to him, who’s still remaining suspiciously calm.

“That’s why?”

“Oh but you don’t understand, Charles. I’d built a network there, an empire. And while I still had people loyal to me, I could never go back after my escape. I had to rebuild everything from the ground up. You cost me so much money and respect.”

Charles can’t help swelling with pride; he’d even pat himself on the back. That’s one thing he’d done right in his life as a high-functioning drunk student. He wasn’t an actual alcoholic, not like some of his relatives, but despite getting along with his fellow students he was fairly lonely back then, lonely enough to want to forget reality every now and then.

“You have two options, Charles. I’m giving you a minute to get to your precious Erik or your lovely sister. I will open whichever door you choose. As for the other room…” Shaw’s smile widens even further, finding this situation extremely exciting. “Those souls are going to have trouble breathing.”

He could refuse to play this sick game, but Shaw would just kill everyone. He might anyway, after he’s done playing games.

“And before I forget: the wheelchair stays and my traitor friend here doesn't get to serve as a crutch.” He pauses for a second, looking at the clock on the far wall.  “I’d go if I were you, time’s ticking.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *I thought about explaining the override code, but I figured I’d let you figure it out for yourselves. If a regular telephone keypad doesn’t help, you can use one of the online keypad translators. They’re free.
> 
> ** "That’s it, you’re fucking dead." (I’m not Russian so apologies if that’s not correct. I'm not even a native English speaker, to be honest.)


	23. Chapter 23

(Charles)

He’s not really making a choice here, Shaw already decided for him. There’s simply no way he can make it up those stairs and to the conference room unaided. Alexandrei seems to realise this as well. He gives the Russian a nod and watches him run off to the conference room. There’s no way Shaw will open the door for Alexandrei, but Charles hopes there is some creative solution Alexandrei can come up with to get to his sister, Logan and Raven’s operative. It wouldn’t even surprise him if the tall man carried explosives in his jeans’ pockets, never mind logistics.

Shaw is a sadist. Even if Charles can make it to Erik and Hank in time it’ll be a close call. He tries to distract himself from the pain; every time he puts weight on the limb a sharp pain tells him he shouldn’t be moving at all. His body can be very convincing. He tries to run, or at least limp as fast as he can. The important part is not falling on his face, because he’s not entirely sure he’d be able to get up again.

He nearly loses his footing when he turns around the corner. The floor isn’t slippery at all, but right now it seems as if he’s crossing an ice skating rink. He’s out of breath when he reaches the vault. When it doesn’t open he touches the door, paranoid enough to consider it a requirement to succeed in Shaw’s game.

True to his word, Shaw allows the door to slide open, revealing a confused Erik and a slightly defeated-looking Hank.

“Give me a second,” Charles says, immediately connecting his mind to Raven’s.

_‘Raven? I’m sorry. I couldn’t-’_

_‘This is it, isn’t it?’_ she thinks. She seems remarkably calm, not at peace with the idea of dying but knowing very well that screaming isn’t going to help any of them. It would just kill everyone faster.

Charles tries to be with her. He can hear Alexandrei pounding on the door upstairs, to no avail.

 _‘Do you- do you want me to help you sleep?’_ Even telepathically it sounds as if his voice is breaking.

_‘Cassandra would prefer that, can you do that for her?’_

He sinks into the woman’s mind, finally knowing her name. He tells her it’s okay to lie down and sleep, sends a calming telepathic wave and waits for her to drift off before switching back to his sister.

She’s having more trouble breathing and sits down in a seat.

 _‘I’m so sorry, Raven. I love you,’_ he tells her, showing her just how much with his telepathy.

_‘Don’t you dare feel guilty for someone else’s behaviour! I need you to do something for me.’_

_‘Anything.’_ If he had to speak out loud he’d be choking on every word.

_‘After you’ve killed that bastard I want you to check the bottom drawer of my desk, there’s a button there. It’ll give you access to some documents. I want you to read them. Promise me that.’_

_‘I promise, Raven.’_

_‘I love you too, Charles. I couldn’t have hoped for a better brother. Tell Alexandrei I love him very much.’_

_‘I will.’_

Even her thoughts are slowing down dramatically. She’s suffering and there’s nothing he can do about it. Except try to make her feel calm and loved. He sends the same sensations to Logan.

_‘Kill Shaw, I don’t care how. And marry Erik. You two deserve each other.’_

He can feel her regret for not going to be able to organise and attend their wedding.

 _‘Shit.’_ She stays quiet after that, her brain unable to think and her body complying to the lack of oxygen.

Charles has to leave his sister’s mind, and stop breathing along with her.

When he does Erik is hovering in front of him. He’s the only thing between him and the floor as his legs give out. Erik catches him and eases him to the floor, careful every step of the way.

“Charles?” Erik whispers, cradling Charles’ head until Hank offers his lab coat to use as a pillow.

He can barely breathe and when he does draw in a breath and lets it out again it sounds more like a choked sob. His cheeks feel wet as if he’s been crying the entire time. Charles tries to calm down a little, he doesn’t want to worry Erik and Hank, but the emotions are so overwhelming he can barely manage.

“That’s it,” Erik encourages, noticing his effort.  “In and out. Slowly.” He wipes a stray tear from Charles’ face in the process.

 Erik and Hank don’t speak, they simply sit down on the floor next to him, allowing him a moment. Charles thinks it’s a good thing he collapsed in the corridor, no need to worry about the vault door closing again. It’s a ridiculous thought, one he doesn’t want to be having right now, but not as ridiculous as his thoughts about the stain on the ceiling. Maybe shock is setting in or something.

Erik and Hank’s compassion makes him want to cry more.

“Let it all out, Charles,” Hank suggests.

It’s not like his body is giving him a choice.

He doesn’t know how long it takes for him to compose himself enough to sit up with Erik’s support, definitely too long. He tells Erik and Hank about Shaw’s words, including his powers and that he does remember Erik and his mum.

“I – I need to go upstairs.”

“Of course.” Erik nods and helps him up, but his leg has had enough refusing to take his weight. Charles doesn’t have to ask for help, in an instant Erik has his shoulder under his arm, ready to support most of his weight.

“Your back is not going to like this,” Charles muses, referring to their height difference.

“I don’t care,” Erik responds.

He can tell Hank would’ve offered as well, but he’s okay with Erik as extra support and this way Hank can keep an eye on their surroundings.

“Erm, we found that helmet,” Hank says, retrieving it from the shelf.

“Erik, I want you to wear it.”

He gets a confused look in return, from both of them, but especially Erik.  “I’d prefer if you or Hank were safe from his influence.”

“I know but you’re more of a threat to him physically. If he turns you against us…”

“What about your telepathy?” Hank asks.

“I don’t think he’s going to use his powers on me. He wants me fully in control of my body while I watch you all suffer and die in front of me.” Charles is quite sure of that, even without being able to read Shaw’s mind.

“Fair enough,” Erik agrees, accepting the helmet from Hank and sliding the helmet down on his head. “But it’s not going to make much of a difference if he stays determined to mess with our oxygen supply,” he adds.

Or the fact that they can’t open any doors unless Shaw wants them to, Charles thinks.

“We need to go check on Alexandrei.”

The lift, of course, is still out of commission because Shaw is still a sadistic asshole. If revenge is all he wants he is making it his mission to drag it out as much as possible.

“Let me pick you up,” Erik offers.

He takes in the steps in front of them before nodding, allowing Erik to place his arm under his knees and pick him up. It’s a good thing he left his stubborn pride somewhere in Shaw’s basement.

Hank leads the way, ready to fend off anything on their path. There won’t be anything, but it’s touching to see this ferocious protective side to Hank.

In Erik’s arms it’s as if he weighs nothing at all. He’s lost some weight in the last few weeks, but he chalks that up to Erik being just that strong.

When they find Alexandrei, he’s sitting on the floor of the corridor, his back against the conference room’s door.  He’s not crying, but looks on the verge of tears. It’s as if he’s isolating himself from reality.

Erik helps him to his feet again.

“I’m sorry,” Charles starts but Alexandrei stops him with a wave of his hand.

“There was never a choice.”

“She said to tell you that she loved you very much.”

Alexandrei nods. It doesn’t change the pain, burning deep and very similar to his own.

Charles is about to say something when the door shifts open, making an angry sort of noise in the process.

Of course Shaw would do that, show off his work knowing fully well they’d be up here.  Charles would rather not stare into his sister’s lifeless eyes.

He doesn’t want to go anywhere near the room with his mind either, rather afraid of lingering thoughts or sensations. He doesn’t want to relive his sister’s final moment. He scans the room because it’s the right thing to do, regardless of his own feelings. He starts gasping for breath when he tries to touch Logan’s mind. He can feel someone’s hands on him but he’s too busy trying to inhale and exhale.

“Logan… CPR,” he manages to choke out, sounding nothing like himself.

He cuts loose from Logan’s mind to discover Hank looking at him in concern and Erik kneeling down beside Logan following his instructions. Alexandrei is moving over to help as well even though he can’t help looking at Raven first and then at him.

He doesn’t know how to respond to that particular expression: a mix of desperation and sadness. Alexandrei knows before Charles shakes his head. There’s no hope.

His training kicking in Alexandrei moves to help Erik with his attempt to bring Logan back.

If Hank weren’t holding on to him, he’d be a puddle on the floor. Cassandra died not long after Raven. He doesn’t know how he knows that, but he does. He’d rather know how to save her and his sister.

“He’s… breathing again,” Erik announces, sounding slightly surprised. “Pulse seems rather steady, too.”

He limps closer, lowers himself to the floor and puts his hand on Logan’s forehead.

There’s no brain damage, which in itself is remarkable given the circumstances. He’s not comatose but not sleeping either, almost as if he managed to pull himself into some kind of trance. He digs a little deeper into Logan’s mind, hoping to find his consciousness and help a little if he can.

Logan’s mind still feels familiar, even after all these years. He tries to be a calming entity, knowing that after such an ordeal it’s easy to seem like an intruder. Much to his surprise Logan recognises his presence immediately.

_‘Chuck?’_

Perhaps he’s not too surprised when he considers the situation. He bets Logan doesn’t have other people poking around in his head. Charles tries to block out reality on the other side of his well-constructed telepathy wall. He makes himself comfortable on the couch of Logan’s man cave, a mindscape he created years ago for Logan’s benefit. He settles and waits for Logan, knowing his friend will rise up to the presented challenge.

Eventually the door to his left opens and Logan walks in, looking tired but sane enough.

 _‘Am I dead?’_ He comes over and sits down beside him.

_‘No, just oxygen-deprived.’_

_‘That doesn’t sound too good.’_

_‘Under normal circumstances you’d be dead, but you’re not and you seem_ yourself _,’_ he explains.

_‘The others? Are they alright?’_

He shakes his head matter-of-factly, in an attempt not to force himself to think about the meaning of the gesture. _‘Just you. Logan, how did you-?’_

He frowns as he tries to remember _. ’I’m not sure. I knew I was going to die and I tried to stay calm. Like we used to practice, I guess.’_

_‘You were in some kind of trance, changed your breathing pattern dramatically.’_

_‘I did huh?’_

_‘Care to wake up, help us out, maybe?’_

_‘I can do that.’_

Charles finds he still has his hand on Logan’s forehead.  Erik’s on his knees next to him; he’s not touching him, but he can feel the heat of the Erik’s skin.

Logan’s confusion is obvious. “This is new,” he says, struggling to sit up. Charles retracts his arm and takes a moment to take in his friend’s appearance. All in all Logan looks healthy enough. He’s quicker to get back on his feet than he is. The opposite would be a bad sign for anyone, given how slow he is at the moment.

He averts his gaze and squeezes his eyes shut when Logan heads for his sister’s body. He can’t do this right now, not ever. He knows he needs to process this, and he will because he owes his sister that, but not right now, not when there’s a lunatic trying to kill them.

“Charles?” Erik’s voice pierces through his thoughts.

“Just… give me a moment please,” he says, almost pleading.

He doesn’t quite expect it when Erik pulls him into an embrace, but when he feels Erik’s body against his he doesn’t let go, he holds on to him like a lifeline. Erik doesn’t comment, just lets him feel his warmth and compassion.

“Take a moment, Shaw isn’t going anywhere,” Erik whispers in his ear.

He’s not hyperventilating but he has to calm his breathing. A moment isn’t enough, but he succeeds in composing himself and turning to his friends, Erik’s strong arms still steadying him, both on the inside and outside.

“I think I might have an idea,” he announces. He locks eyes with Alexandrei. “I’m afraid I’m going to need your help for this.”

“You have it.”

Charles nods. He hasn’t even explained, but he has the man’s loyalty. He’d be touched if the situation weren’t so dire.   

“Do you think he knows Logan is still alive?” Hank asks

“I’m not sure he does. The same could be said about you and Erik. We know his range doesn’t reach very far and that he can control all sorts of technology. If we can we should take advantage of the fact that he might not know the end results of his deeds,” Charles sums up. He hates that it’s all guess work.  They don’t have the room or time to get it wrong.

Alexandrei nods. “We try.”

“What do you suppose is his end game? Kill us all and walk away? He seems focused on what I can do.” Charles looks away for a second, inhaling sharply. “Or in this case tormenting me with what I cannot do.” Frankly he doesn't know how he's still talking and functioning.

“Perhaps he means to break your will until you are willing to work for him,” Alexandrei suggests.

Charles nods. “We’re assuming he doesn’t want to kill me just yet, correct? That he needs me for something.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” Erik says.

“Neither do I,” Charles admits, “and this will only work if I’m worth the trouble. We’re going to have to hope his arrogance is as ugly as we think it is. I’m going to need Emma Frost for this.”

“You’re going use her abilities?” Hank is the one to ask the question, but it’s the one thing on everyone’s mind.

“I want to try to amplify mine, actually. I don’t know if this will work, but we have to try because we’re not getting out of here without help. The problem is that I’m going to need to connect to her and I fear I need skin contact for that.”

 “Okay. How do we get inside the infirmary, Chuck?”

Charles sighs. “I’m going to need something sharp.”


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: this chapter might be slightly triggering for some. Please re-check the tags above if you're worried. 
> 
> Apologies for the delay, had a short vacation and this chapter didn't want to be (re)written. If you're still reading this by some miracle: thank you. Your patience, comments and kudos are very appreciated. ♥

(Charles)

Erikand Hank seem worried when he mentions he needs a sharp object, but not Logan and Alexandrei. Logan simply seems curious while Alexandrei accepts his words as a sort of mission. Without even asking for further information, the latter moves back to Raven and checks her trouser pockets. He pulls out a familiar switchblade.

“She’d want you to have this back,” the Russian says.

He remembers giving it to his sister when she moved abroad for the first time. He wasn’t pro the idea at first, but he came round to it when he realised she wouldn’t be accepting any ‘boring’ safety advice. They didn’t grow up in the most regular and stable family; early on Raven picked jobs that would get her away from home and seemed risky, both of these decisions probably connected to each other.

“She carried it with her at all times.”

Charles is quite surprised to hear that, his sister was never the sentimental type.

“She did?”

Alexandrei nods. “She said that it represents the moment she knew you understood who she was and why she went away.”

The blade looks as if she used it very often, but still as sharp as the day he gifted it, if not sharper.

“Hank, I know a bit about the human body, but I’d rather have someone verify.”

“ _What_ are you talking about?” Erik seems pretty fed up with him beating around the bush, probably because he expects where this is going. The helmet isn’t helping them either. He misses Erik’s presence in his head.

“I’m going to pretend I cut my wrists,” Charles admits, dropping the sort bombshell Erik was fearing.

“Fuck no.” Logan and Erik throw each other a knowing glance when they simultaneously utter the same expletive. The kind that says they both should’ve seen this coming and that Charles has finally lost it.

Hank, on the other hand, looks at Charles as if he’s considering his words.

“I said pretend,” he reminds everyone. “If we do this right we can make it look bad enough for Shaw to allow us inside the infirmary.”

“I take you down there and say you tried to kill yourself?” Alexandrei surmises.

Charles nods. He stops further protest by continuing, “I’m doing this and there’s no changing my mind. Unless there’s a better idea, I’d like to get this over with.”

The silence that follows brings him back to Hank.  
  
“You know we can’t disinfect this, right?” Hank whispers.

“I know, Hank. It’s a risk I’m willing to take.”

He nods. “Alright. As crazy as it sounds this could just work and if it doesn’t at least we tried?”

“I can’t believe I’m agreeing to this,” Erik says, already regretting his words.

Alexandrei shrugs and removes his shirt, taking Raven’s knife back from Charles to cut it into strips.

It should still scare him a little that the Russian is so practical in these cases, never saying much and always ready to do things that would make other people sick to the stomach. Or perhaps it should worry him that it doesn’t, not anymore. He’s come to trust this man so much it’s hard to fathom he’s only known Alexandrei for a few weeks.  
  
Charles allows Erik to steer him to a chair. The least he can do is accept Erik’s concern and care.

“I’ve had it with this thing,” Erik says as he removes the helmet from his head. “As long as we don’t go anywhere near him we should be alright. I’d rather have you in my head when you do this.”

Charles should’ve seen that coming, and to be quite fair he doesn’t want to protest the action. He nods. “I’d rather have you in my head too.” He offers Erik a sad sort of smile, asking him to trust him and believe that it’ll be okay.

“I’m done,” Alexandrei announces, giving the knife back to Charles.

He sighs. “Alright, let’s get this over with, shall we? Hank?”

“Do you want me to-?” the scientist asks, not sure if that’s an odd question or not.

Charles shakes his head; he’d never ask that of his friends. “No. I’d like you to keep an eye on what I’m doing. Make sure I don’t do anything stupid.” He supposes the entire idea is stupid. “More stupid,” he offers his friends, knowing fully well what everyone was thinking.  This has to be one of the craziest things he’s done in a long time.

He brings the knife to his left wrist first and tries not to think about the action itself. It doesn’t hurt much, at first, when the blade cuts deep enough to draw blood. He makes another similar shallow line parallel to the first, before taking some of the strips and allowing the shreds to soak up the blood. When there’s enough blood on the makeshift bandages he allows Hank to actually wrap his wrist. He repeats the process with his right wrist. When he’s done he finds himself staring at his sister’s blade in his left hand.

“Charles?”

It takes a moment to draw himself back to reality. “I’m sorry. I should probably say something. Didn’t mean to worry you. I’m quite alright.”

“ _Probably_ ,” Logan repeats.

“How’s the pain?” Hank asks.

He takes a moment to look at the bloody bandages. “It hurts,” he admits, “but it’s not as bad as I expected.”  It sort of makes him feel less detached, but he doesn’t mention that.

With Erik’s help he manages to get to his feet. “I’d like to get this over with as soon as possible.” He takes advantage of the situation to surprise Erik with a kiss, one they both want to last a lot longer.

“I feel a bit woozy,” he admits.

“I did say this was a bad idea,” Erik responds, but there’s no judgment in his voice.

“Yes, yes you did.”

He turns to Alexandrei. “I’m hoping your acting skills are as good as your undercover work?”

“Same dance,” the Russian tells him, confident as ever. “I suggest you pretend to be half unconscious.”

Charles nods, he won’t have to pretend much.  “We’ll have to improvise.” He allows Alexandrei to throw him over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry, it’s not comfortable, but it’s the easiest way to get his plan moving.

“Good luck,” Hank says, while Logan and Erik seem at a loss for words.

The Russian smiles fondly at all three of them. “I’ll protect him,” he says, heading out the door and into the corridor.

“Squeeze my shoulder if you’re uncomfortable,” he tells Charles.

“We’re going to Shaw,” Charles notes dryly. “Comfortable will be non-existent. But I appreciate the thought.”

They don’t say anything else on their way to the cells, both of them too focused on the meeting ahead and its possible outcome. And as much as Charles doesn’t want to admit it, this is draining most of his energy. The blood loss and his leg aside, he could do with some quality sleep. He’d prefer that over negotiating with a narcissistic psychopath any day.

Alexandrei carries him to Shaw’s cell, making sure Shaw can see his bandaged wrists. Charles keeps his eyes closed, but he can imagine the look on Shaw’s face.

“What’s this?” Shaw asks.

“What do you think this is?” Alexandrei asks, sounding pissed off, the kind of anger that would scare nearly anyone.

Shaw tuts his lips, dismayed. “I should’ve taken weakness into account.  This is not what I had in mind.”

Remaining calm tests every inch of Charles’ patience.

“You think he cares what you want? You killed the people he cares about.”

There’s a pause, as if Shaw’s considering Alexandrei’s words.

“I suppose you’re right. You were always the clever one.”

Killing Erik and Hank, along with his sister, must’ve been his plan all along. Along with Shaw’s determination to underestimate them, it gives them an extra advantage. He pretends to struggle in Alexandrei’s arms for added dramatic effect. “Leave me be,” he mumbles. Alexandrei’s grip is strong,  but his hands are careful not to harm him or jostle him further than necessary.

“What was that?” Shaw wonders, curiosity piqued.

“He said _leave me be_. Perhaps I should, it seems like the humane thing to do.”

“Yet here you are, because you know I can’t allow you to do that. I need you to keep him alive.”

“And why should I?”

“Because you _want_ him to live. And if you don’t I’ll make sure anyone still alive in this facility won’t be.”

He can feel Alexandrei’s eyes on him. “The cuts are deep he needs proper medical care, I can’t treat him. He needs stitches, a blood transfusion...”

“Oh but you can. I was so kind to open the nice medical office upstairs. I suggest you keep him alive. When you’re done and he’s awake you bring him back here.”

Another pause. “I’ll be waiting.” Shaw sounds jolly as ever but there’s a slight undertone of anger and perhaps worry about the success of his grand scheme.

Alexandrei slips him off his back and settles him in the wheelchair. Charles doesn’t dare open his eyes for a while, even when he knows they’re in the clear. When he finally does they’re already in the lift going up again.

“Did he… believe it?” he wonders.

“We’ll know if that door opens.”

Hank and Logan are already waiting for them at the infirmary. The door’s indeed open, but they haven’t gone inside just yet, clearly not trusting anything.

“I’m alright”, he answers Erik’s unspoken question, grabbing the older man’s hand and giving it a firm reassuring squeeze.

Hank walks ahead of them, looking for medical supplies. “Put him on the bed over there,” he orders.

“I’m okay, Hank.”

“You’re going to rest and I’m going to have a proper look at your wrists and leg. Then you can go to Frost. She’s right over there and not going anywhere.”

She is, just a few beds away. There’s a nasal cannula under her nose and her heart is beeping steadily according to the monitor. Her left wrist is handcuffed to the bed railing.

Charles looks at the others, not finding any support there, obviously outnumbered. “Fine.”

Erik helps him on the bed while he looks for the remote so he can sit up and look his friends in the eye when he speaks with them. Logan finds it first, in the nightstand’s drawer, offering him the piece of technology.

“Thanks.” He finally allows himself to settle and lean back, as they all wait for Hank to finish rummaging through the infirmary’s supplies.

When Hank comes back he’s carrying a box with medical supplies, plastic cups, two bottles of water and MREs. He takes one of the cups and fills it with water before offering it to Charles. “Slowly,” he says. “We need fluids and food. I found MREs so I suggest we all start eating while we can.”

When no one moves, he continues. “Preferably a little further so I can work.” As soon as they’re done filling their own cup with water and grabbing an MRE, Hank refocuses his attention on Charles.

“Here, I want you to try and eat a little first.” Hank opens the MRE for him, revealing something that doesn’t look as nutritious as it’s supposed to be. In fact, it rather looks like a car ran over it. Charles accepts the bland-looking meal, though, taking a bite, and another, and another. Hank simply waits until he’s satisfied with Charles’ progress. It gets a bit creepy after a while, but at least Charles knows it’s not a fetish of Hank’s to watch people eat. He’s just in his mother hen mode.

“Now take this,” the scientist says, offering him a pill and a refilled cup of water.

Charles digs Wu’s pills out of his pocket and shows them to Hank. “Should I?”

There’s no label on the bottle, something which leads Hank to open the bottle and inspect the pills inside.

“Hmm.”

“Hmm? Hank? If you’re about to tell me these are placebos I’m-”

“That’s not it, I think.”

“I think?”

“I don’t recognise these,” the scientist admits.

He thinks he must look baffled at the admission. “ _Marvellous_. That’s marvellous. What do you suggest I do?”

“Either you don’t take a pain pill, which is something I’d advise against. Or you take another of these,” Hank says waving Wu’s bottle around in the air.

Because mixing drugs is a bad idea, obviously. He could do without all of this.

“So either I take something that you’ve never seen before or … I don’t. Is there a third option that doesn’t involve mixing unknown substances?”

“Afraid not.”

He wants to say he’ll tough it out, but he’s had enough of this: of the physical and emotional pain, of the helplessness. He could really use a break and so far the pills he’s been taking, unknown or not, have been working wonders.

“Have I been acting strangely?”

 “No more than normal.” He senses Hank knows why he’s asking, but since he knows about as much as he does he’s not going to speculate.

“Thanks for that,” he says taking one of Wu’s pills and flushing it down with some water.  

Hank puts on a pair of medical gloves and starts with his left wrist, carefully removing the strips of Alexandrei’s shirt. It’s a painful process, but thankfully the shallow cuts stopped bleeding.

“This will sting,” Hank notes, continuing his ministrations and disinfecting the cuts.  By the time Hank is finished re-bandaging his wrist and done repeating the procedure, Charles has his eyes screwed shut.

“Try breathing.”

Charles lets out a choked sound at the joke.  At least he can tell the pill is finally kicking in.

“Here, take a few more sips.”

He opens his eyes to find the cup of water in front of his mouth.

“I can probably do that myself.”

“I know,” Hank responds, bringing the cup to his lips and helping him take a few sips.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Hank looks at his leg with slight trepidation. “Want me to wait a bit or-“

“No. Now or never.”

Charles doesn’t want to know, doesn’t want to feel. He decides to latch on to Erik’s mind. Erik’s mind is very welcoming and willing, soothing in every way.  It only takes a few seconds before he finds his right hand in Erik’s firm grasp.

There’s a distant sigh from Hank in the distance.

 

(Erik)

He’s having a conversation with Logan, and he’s telling himself that he’s not looking over his shoulder every three seconds to make sure Charles is still there and still breathing.  Of course Logan’s noticed, he’s not an idiot. Neither is Alexandrei but the Russian is okay with eating and observing.

Between the five of them it’s difficult to tell who’s keeping it together and who’s faking it. Experience tells him they’re all faking it. It’s a human trait after all. They’ll have plenty of time to fall apart after this, if there’s an after.

“Yeah, I figured you weren’t listening,” Logan tells him.

He’s drawn out of his thoughts by the statement. “Was it important?”

Logan shakes his head. “No. Yes. Sort of.”

“We were saying he is going to lose patience. This is taking too long,” Alexandrei supplies, leaning against the metal railing of the infirmary bed opposite the one he and Logan are using as a picnic table.

“He is fucking dragging out this torture on purpose,” Erik reminds them, exasperated. And there’s literally nothing they can do to end it, except hope Charles’ plan has a way of succeeding.

“Da, but he is not getting what he wants from Charles.”

“Charles cut his own wrists to make that monster believe he’s broken. I thought that was the whole idea?”

“You don’t have to remind us, we were there,” Logan says, sounding remarkably calm. Calm on the outside and probably raging on the inside, which in itself seems as un-Logan as possible.

But Erik knows what Alexandrei means. “He chose death over Shaw, defiance over working for him.”

Alexandrei nods.

“How convincing were you?” Erik continues his thought process. He shoves a piece of the MRE in his mouth because he feels like he has to.

“We’re here, aren’t we? He bought it, I could see it.” Alexandrei seems confident, at least.

Too easy, Erik thinks. Call him a pessimist even though he prefers realist.

“It establishes his dominance. We just told him he did better than he expected. We stroked his ego. Almost any narcissist would love to believe they are that powerful and in control.” Logan sounds as if he spent too many nights discussing politics and psychology with Charles over too many drinks.

“Enough to put aside logic?” Erik doesn’t care if he needs to be the devil’s advocate in this case. He’s not taking risks they shouldn’t.

Logan shrugs. “It’s pretty plausible, okay?”

That’s fair enough from their side of the fence, but it is what it is: a guess at best.

That’s when he feels Charles’ mind brush against his, desperately asking for access. He doesn’t just allow it, he excuses himself and moves over to Charles so he can hold his other half’s hand. He ignores Hank’s sigh and squeezes Charles’ hand in support.

 _'Sorry,’_ Charles whispers in his mind. _'Didn’t mean to worry you_.’

' _Shhh. It’s okay. You have nothing to be sorry for_.’

Charles tries to laugh, but what comes out of his mouth sounds a lot more like a sob. _'I cut my wrists. It seemed like a good idea at the time.'_

' _Seemed brave to me. Incredibly stupid, but brave nonetheless_.’

“Ahh. Fuck. Hank, what are you-” Charles adds another expletive or three, then apologises to his friend. “Might hurt a bit,” Charles admits.

“Sorry, you know I have to check. An X-RAY would be helpful,” Hank sighs again, this time because the young scientist must feel pretty helpless too, even while doing the things he knows.

“It’s quite alright. I’ll be fine, Hank. It’s not your fault.”

“I have a pretty sturdy brace lying around here, it’s not much and it’s not going to change the fact that you need and actual surgeon, but it might minimize…” Hank trails off. “I don’t know, okay? He rubs his eyes with the back of his left hand before blinking a couple of times and looking at the both of them. Hank seems so much younger and older at the same time.

There we go, Erik thinks. They’re all tired and not keeping it together, but Hank is the first to be honest enough to admit it out loud.

He grabs Hank’s shoulder and squeezes it, even dares to let go of Charles’ hand to make sure Hank’s back with them when he reassures him. “You do what you can. We all do what we can.”

The kid sucks in a breath and manages a nod. “I’ll go get that brace,” he says, disappearing into the supply room again.

He turns back to Charles who happens to have a rather impressive smile on his face, despite the situation.

“What?”

“I love you,” Charles reminds him, before recommandeering Erik’s left hand. Erik’s happy to oblige. “The feeling might be mutual.”

 _'I need this to be over,’_ Charles tells him, only him. _'But I suppose that’s rather obvious_.’

' _Rather_ ,’ he agrees.

_'For what it’s worth, I don’t think I would’ve met you if not for Shaw's tendency to take grudges to the grave.’_

_'Hey, we’re not dead just yet_.’

_'You sound like Logan now and then.’_

_‘He’s rubbing off on me.’_

_'He does that_.’

They both throw a look at their telepathic subject of choice, who found another MRE which he’s currently sharing with Alexandrei.

“There’s more,” he says in his defence. Then it dawns on him that they’re not looking at the food. ”What does the telepathic grapevine say?”

“Only nice things.”

Hank saves Logan from further prodding.

“Found it. This is not going to be comfortable.”

“I understand, Hank. You don’t have to explain. I appreciate all the effort. _Thank you_.”

That gets a small smile from the young man.

“Squeeze my hand,” Erik suggests.

“Might break it,” Charles jokes, failing to sell his words as remotely funny.

Hank is quick and efficient, placing the brace around Charles’ leg; he only needs to make a few adjustments. Still, when he’s done Charles looks a lot paler and Erik’s hand a lot redder.

“We should all try to get some sleep while we can,” Erik suggests.

“No, I need to-”

“Charles, be honest with yourself. What we’re expecting of you is crazy under any circumstances. You’re tired, in pain and you’re going to need your strength to talk to Frost. And you’ve never tried anything like this before. We’ve gotten this far, allow yourself some rest. Shaw isn’t going anywhere.”

“And he seems to believe you need a blood transfusion and a lot of rest. We should have a few hours,” Alexandrei adds. “It is a flaw in his system, we should take advantage.”

“Alright. But I want Erik or Logan to wear that helmet just in case he does leave his cell to check on us. Especially if he thinks it’s just you and me here.”

“Da, I agree.”

“I’m not leaving you again," Erik says, adamant. He needs their link intact.

“I knew you’d say that.”

They look at Logan who moves over to the table with the helmet on and yanks it off, not satisfied but willing to go along with the logic. “Fine.”

It would improve their odds during an encounter.

“I’ll try to sleep.” Charles sounds worried he won’t be able to, but as expected Erik watches him drift off a few minutes after he closes his eyes, despite the pain, utterly exhausted.

“We should do the same.”

“He should have three hours of sleep at the very least,” Hank says.

Logan looks at Alexandrei who nods in agreement. “We’ll both sleep an hour and a half so one of us van keep watch while the other sleeps.”

“We could-”

“Yes, you could stay up too, but there’s no use, so sleep for three hours or stay awake arguing about it. Your choice.”

Getting used to these people not taking no for an answer, Erik moves the closest infirmary bed next to Charles' and lies down on his left side so he can see Charles right before he closes his eyes and again when he opens them.


	25. Chapter 25

(Charles)

As it turns out he can communicate with comatose people while asleep. If having put said people into said coma is part of the requirement, he doesn't know. Charles isn’t particularly interested in creating a habit out of this anyway. Some more of this and he will call it certifiable mind voodoo and actually mean it this time. He’s scaring the shite out of himself. Fine, whatever’s necessary.

He’s in Emma’s childhood bedroom again, but this time she’s lying on the bed, hands behind her head.

She turns her head to the right to get a proper look at him and read his expression.

“You’re here, but you haven’t killed him. He’s not dead. Why is he not dead?”

If it were that easy she would’ve done it herself.

“I’m going to need some help for that, I’m afraid.” He sits down in the chair at her desk, their previous positions reversed.

She looks frightened, fearing the possibility of having to face Shaw again. She hides it well enough, but Charles recognises the sentiment.

“What kind of help are we talking about?” she asks, sitting up in an attempt to feel less vulnerable.

“I was hoping you’d allow me to bring you back so we can figure out a way to combine our abilities. I’d like to try to reach out for help, but I can’t do that by myself.”

“I’d rather die than risk being in the same room with him. What did he do?”

“He’s taken control of the entire base’s infrastructure, including any chance we have of leaving or communicating with the outside world.”

She looks shocked, clearly she didn't know he could do all of that. If he were to guess by looking at her, Charles would say Emma is trying hard to keep her breathing under control in an attempt to keep an anxiety attack at bay.

“Please leave me out of this.”

“I think you might be our only hope at this point. I know I’m asking a lot and I wouldn’t if I didn’t consider it our last resort.”

“You’re not giving me a choice, are you?”

“I am. I can wake you up, but I can’t make you comply.”

“You could.”

He supposes she has a good point there.

“But I wouldn’t. I’d rather have you help us willingly. You know this is the right thing to do. Help us, Emma.”

“I think I’d rather be selfish.”

“You’d rather die?”

“If Shaw doesn't kill me or enslave me, your boyfriend will.”

“He hasn’t, has he? And if you’re wondering if he’s had the chance, you’ll be surprised to hear you’re both sharing the same room at the moment. I promise you if we get out of this alive you’ll have a chance at a new life.”

She seems to consider his words as if she feels less cornered, as if there’s some hope left. They’re all in this together and while they might not become the best of friends he’s convinced they can work together to end this.

She hesitates before nodding. “Okay.”

\--

He wakes up to the sound of an argument, one he should’ve predicted but didn’t because he’d been too busy at the time, busy minding his own losses and the bigger picture, perhaps. Selfish of him, but understandable.

He recognises the warm weight on his hand as Erik’s hand and cracks his eyes open to find him. Erik is sitting on his bed, one leg partly on the bed, the other serving as a support pillar. He’s watching the argument closely, gauging if he needs to intervene.

“You’re telling me you didn’t know. How did you not know what he was doing to me?”

It’s not difficult to figure out what Emma’s yelling about.

“I didn’t,” Alexandrei replies, surprisingly calm. Clearly the accusation doesn’t strike him as out of place. He simply accepts the words she throws at him. Perhaps he believes she’s right.

“You’re awake,” Erik distracts him from the fight a few beds away, having picked up on his confusion.

“So is Emma.”

“We’ve noticed. How are you feeling?”

“Less tired. Hurts, but feels like I have more energy to deal with it?”

Erik nods, accepting his reasoning. “That’s good. I was worried.”

“You were his fucking right-hand man, _sugar_.” Emma seems to be losing some of the force behind her words, likely realising the argument isn’t going to change the past and it certainly isn’t going to make her feel better in the long run. Yelling might help her for a little while, though.

“Should we interrupt?” Charles asks Erik.

“He’s a big boy, he can handle it.”

Charles doesn’t doubt it. He looks around and catches a glimpse of Logan and Hank in the supply room.

“They’re looking for tools we could use,” Erik clarifies for him.

“How long did I sleep?”

“Not nearly long enough. Close to three hours, but seems you’ve been busy nevertheless.”

He looks slightly apologetic. “I wasn’t planning on doing anything other than sleep.”

He reaches for the bed remote, presses the top arrow and waits for the bed to comply. Once he’s satisfied he looks at Emma. She’s stopped yelling at Alexandrei and moved on to the silent treatment, her arms crossed for emphasis. She walks over when she spots his gaze on her. Avoiding eye contact with Erik, she comes to a halt on the other side of his bed. There’s an uncomfortable silence anyone would pick up on.

“Erik? Would you mind helping out Hank and Logan?”

“You want me to keep my distance because she’s uncomfortable?”

“I was trying to be subtle, but yes,” he says.

“What about you? What would make _you_ comfortable?”

“I have you right here,” he reminds Erik, placing his index finger on his own head.

 _‘You’ll know if I need help,’_ he sends telepathically. _‘Promise.’_

Reluctantly Erik leaves his side to find Hank and Logan in the supply room.

Charles reaches out his hand to Emma, inviting her to come sit on his bed. She accepts his hand and moves to the other side, his left side, where Erik was sitting only moments ago. He catches Emma staring at the brace on his right leg. Of course she sees the bandages around his wrists as well, but doesn’t mention those.

“How bad is it? I saw the blood in the basement.”

“It was rather hard to miss, I’m sure,” he notes grimly. “I don’t know, but I’m assuming all the walking I’ve been doing isn’t helping the healing process.” Charles laughs.

“Why is that funny?” she asks.

“My stepfather used to tell me to walk it off whenever I hurt myself. His son made me very _clumsy_ as well, or that’s what they told my drunk mother. So you see, it’s a poor choice of words on my part.”

“I know what you’re trying to do,” she says, but not unsympathetically. Perhaps the gigantic barrier of ice around her is thawing a little.

Charles, of course, knows there is not much he can do with the little time they have, but he needs her as comfortable as possible and her mind as open and as trusting as she can muster.

“I don’t think there’s much Alexandrei could’ve done even if he had known.

For what it’s worth.”

“Not much, but I know. What happened to your stepfather and stepbrother?”

“I hear they are living a life of luxury in Aruba.”

“How did you-”

“Get away from them? Make it stop?”

She nods.

“I learned how to defend myself.”

“With your telepathy?”

“Not quite.” He doesn’t elaborate and she seems to accept that, having pried enough already. She does seem more at ease after their short but entailing conversation.

“What do I do?” She still has that façade of confidence. Charles, however, knows she’s uncertain and asking him to take lead.

He offers both of his hands this time and waits for her to place her hands in his. “Close your eyes,” he says.

_‘What are we doing?’_

_‘I’m not sure yet, whatever we can to get out of here,’_ he says, honest as ever.

Exploring her mind, he tries to avoid her memories and more intimate thoughts. If anything it’ll put her even more at ease and he doubts he needs her backstory. Instead he searches for the neural paths that will lead him to the core of her abilities. He suspects it must feel rather similar to her as it does to him.

He can tell she’s trying to help him, pushing everything she knows about how her powers work, and how she perceives them, to the foreground. He envisions it like their joined hands except sturdier, like a seatbelt perhaps, both ends clicking together and linking their abilities.

What he’d like very much is to have a summary of their options, a general idea of what’s a viable solution and what’s not. While down that particular path of thinking their linked minds lead to something he wasn’t expecting at all. Suddenly the blackness makes way for a sort of out-of-body experience. He’s in the infirmary, then he’s outside where he can see the hatch. Emma’s not there with him, but he can feel her presence in his head. He lets his mind reach out and search for the nearest soul, hoping the person in question has a phone. These days most people have one, even in rural areas, but it would just be his kind of luck to have to search for multiple people.

The nearest person lives about fifteen miles away from the base, which is both surprising and unsurprising. Raven’s intention from the beginning, he guesses: remote but not too remote. The person in question is a middle-aged man, luckily the proud owner of a landline and a cell phone. He sinks into the man’s mind and makes him call Moira MacTaggert, makes him explain the situation on a need-to-know basis. When he knows she’ll do anything in her power to help out he lets the older man end the call. Charles lets go of his mind, but not before wiping his memories of the last few minutes. It’s scary how normal it’s beginning to feel to read and alter minds.

He’s back at the base’s entrance, near the barn. Their gatekeeper is nowhere to be seen, perhaps unconscious inside. With Emma as a mental back-up he skims most of the minds inside the base, looking for nothing in particular, but hoping to find something he can work with, perhaps a way around Shaw’s powers.

That’s when he makes the mistake to think about Shaw and his physical presence in his cell below ground. He wasn’t planning on looking for Shaw’s mind. He knows he can’t read or influence the man. Yet, here he is, suddenly aware of Shaw’s very unique mind, recognisable amongst all the other minds. It’s right there and he can sense it now, perhaps grasp it.

_‘Charles?’_

He can feel the link between himself and Emma shift in uncertainty and fear.

‘ _You can sense him too_ ,’ he assumes.

' _Yes. And I’d rather not go near him. If you go near him I go near him. I don’t like this one bit.’_

She’s right, of course. He can’t enter Shaw’s mind without involving Emma, without risking her safety.

' _Another trick?’_ he wonders.

 _'He’s always playing_ , always.’

He’s gathered as much. But would Shaw risk opening up his mind to either of them if he never risked it in the past, always taking extra precautions while knowing fully well he or Emma couldn’t read him? This could be an opportunity they might never have again.

Emma’s following his line of thinking, but doesn’t add to it. He can feel she knows it’s a logical assumption.

' _I’m not doing this. I will sever our connection if you go any closer_.’

 _'I’m terrified too_ ,’ he admits, ' _but I don’t want to die and I know you don’t either, not really_.’

' _You called for help_.’

_'Don’t kid yourself, you know as well as I do that help won't stand a chance either. This. This is the best chance we’ve got.’_

He lets his words sink in, hoping to replace her panic with something more useful like hope, or even anger. Anything other than panic will do right about now.

 _'He had you under his thumb, nothing more than his pawn, a tool to use whenever he pleased_ ,’ he continues. He waits a moment, for dramatic effect if anything. Charles is bound to feel guilty if something happens to her, but instead of manipulating her, he hopes he’s just convincing her into helping him. There’s a thin line between both categories, but his intentions should count for something.

 _'You won’t be alone,’_ he adds. ' _Not this time, I’ll be with you every step of the way.’_

It has the desired effect.

 _'The funny thing is I believe you. Or maybe it’s that I want to believe you_ ,’ she says, after a long pause. She sighs. _‘Okay, let’s do this before I have time to change my mind.’_

Shaw doesn’t even notice at first and when he finally does his reaction is one of surprise, a moment of shock the narcissist masks within a second or two. It gives Charles the extra push he needs to continue. Shaw’s mental resistance is too weak to throw him and Emma out, or to stop him from digging deeper. He finds his way to Shaw’s powers, but, unfortunately Shaw knows what he’s trying to achieve.

 _‘I wouldn’t do that if I were you,’_ he tells them.

_‘Why is that?’_

_‘Because you know it will kill dear Emma.’_

_‘Charles? What does he mean?’_ she asks, just for him to hear.

 _‘He’s trying to mess with us,_ ’ Charles assures her, but the panic is already setting in, immobilising her. _‘You can do this,’_ he tells her. Their link is weakening, which means he only has a small window of opportunity. He needs to try something now, while he still can. While Shaw continues taunting Emma and focuses his resistance on her, Charles dives deeper and yanks at Shaw’s powers with everything he’s got left.

There’s a gasp he can’t place and then the connection is gone. When he opens his eyes he’s back in the infirmary, in time to see Emma fall sideways against his legs.

“Emma?” he calls her name, reaching out to her in the process. With a slight jerk of her body she comes to. As she attempts to sit up, she looks around the room, recognising the infirmary and relaxing at its sight.

“Are you alright?” he asks her before anyone else can. Hank is already hovering over them a few feet away, Erik and the others not far behind.

She nods. She’s trembling, but otherwise unharmed. On shaky legs she moves to a chair and sits down, lowering her head between her legs while she focuses on breathing.

“Yeah, we’re going to need an explanation, Chuck.” Logan moves closer, watching him with hawkeyes.

Charles clears his throat. “We managed to call Moira, she is going to send help,” he starts, “and I think I managed to do something to Shaw.”

They wait for him to elaborate.

“I’m not sure what I did, but I tried to…” Charles is not sure what he tried to do exactly. Remove Shaw’s abilities? Limit him? “I tried to turn off his powers,” he settles for. There was a flicker of something when the connection broke. “He’s going to try to escape now, I think.” That’s what the flicker was, Shaw was considering his options.

Logan throws a glance at Alexandrei. “We’ll go after him.”

“Please be careful. I’m not sure-”

Logan motions to the helmet on his head. “That’s what this is for, right?”

Erik looks eager to join them in their search, but he sits down next to Charles and watches them leave.

“You’re staying to protect me?”

Erik’s eyes search him, as if to make sure he’s fine. “I’m staying to keep you from doing something stupid. Again,” he says admiringly. 

Charles rewards the concern with a smile before pulling Erik close enough to kiss him. “You’re full of contradictions, you know that?”

“And yet you don’t seem to mind.” Erik gives his hand another gentle squeeze.

He looks over to where Hank is taking care of Emma, who’s still sitting in the same position. “How is she?”

A bit traumatised because of him, he figures.

“She just needs some time, she’s doing alright.”

That’s something, Charles tells himself.

Hank takes that as the ideal moment to come over to him and ask him similar questions. “What about you?”

“Have a bit of a headache,” he admits, “but nothing new, if that’s what you’re wondering.”

Hank seems to be trying to gauge if that’s the truth. In the end he clearly decides that it must be, or at least the scientist gives him the benefit of the doubt. They’re all busy enough as it is anyway.

Logan pops his head back in, he hasn’t even been gone for ten minutes.. “Everything’s unlocked, but Shaw is no longer in his cell. Alexandrei’s already headed outside to check the area. We’ll keep looking.”

And just like that Logan’s gone again.

“I can’t sense him anymore, not without my connection to Emma.”

“This confirms you did _something_ to his mind, or he wouldn’t be running.”

True enough, this was supposed to be Shaw’s endgame, he wouldn’t just walk away from that, unless… unless he feels he can’t carry out his endgame.

“Probably, yes. Something. It would be helpful to know the actual effects of what I did.” he rubs the sleep from his eyes. “Fuck, this is such a mess.” Charles can’t stay there and sit still, not when he can do something.

His gaze meets Erik’s gaze. “We’re not really staying here, are we?”

“Who’s-?” he stumbles over his words. “Who’s in charge now?”

Hank eyes him sadly, not pity, just concern and sympathy. Hank liked his sister a lot, perhaps he loved her almost as much as he did. “Alexandrei for now. There’s a chain of command, but that list is a secret to avoid rivalry. Only a few people know the list’s location and Alexandrei is one of them, but even then you’d have to have access to the system.”

At the look of confusion on Erik’s face, Hank continues. “I helped design that system, that’s how I know.”

“Alexandrei didn’t suggest anything, I was thinking maybe we could start checking the rooms for survivors. Help them wake up if necessary?”

Erik seems to consider the idea, and likely the probability of death occurring for either of them. His response consists out of getting up, retrieving his wheelchair and parking it next to the bed before helping him in it.  Because Erik knows he needs something to do and Erik’s not terribly fond of sitting on his hands either.

“Thank you,” he says, for understanding and not treating him like he’s completely incapacitated despite his current limitations.

“Should I come along?” Hank asks.

“We’ll send people here and if there’s someone who can’t be moved I’ll let you know.”

So far he’s encountered more bodies than breathing operatives. This won’t be any better, he fears.

He nods. “I’ll prepare for anything.”

  


(Erik)

He needed a way to deal with his anger. That's why Erik thinks he went into security in the first place. It’s the kind of job that allows him to get physical (if need be) and he never has to refrain from being the blunt arsehole. But here’s the thing, if Charles were to argue he went into security to actually help people, well, then he'd have to be honest with himself and admit that he does get a kick out of seeing relief and hope on people's faces, knowing they're safe again. He could do without the social awkwardness that goes hand in hand with having to respond to all the thank you notes and flowers though.

“Your clients sent you flowers?” Charles looks up at him from his wheelchair.

“Why is that so surprising? Thought you were the only one?”

“No! I just… I was curious. Perhaps a tad jealous,” he adds with a sly smile.

They’ve been going from room to room, checking to see if some of Raven’s people made it. Much to their surprise they do find quite a few lucky survivors. Erik guesses they don’t feel lucky, but of most of the survivors the main complaints seem to be headaches and having problems remembering what went down. Compared to the lifeless bodies they find, they are the lucky ones. They’ll leave the official diagnosing up to Hank, though. Or Wu, whom they find near the liquor. Erik didn’t realise the base had such an impressive supply of drinks.

“I woke up thinking I had a hangover,” the surgeon tells them. “Then I remembered I didn’t actually touch any of it. I was just grabbing a bottle of scotch for my late night research.”

All in all he guesses about twenty-five percent of Raven’s people survived Shaw’s plan. Given the circumstances he would be inclined to say that’s a lot.

The survivors help where they can and soon the base is once again a place of activity, sort of.

Shaw, however, is nowhere to be seen. No one seems more disappointed than Alexandrei and Logan, who look utterly devastated at having failed to track him down.

They find Conrad, their gatekeeper, in the mess hall. It’s a relief to see him alive. Especially after Hank told them he hadn’t heard any news. The scientist admitted to leaving Magnet with the older man. To say that seeing the silly shepherd alive and well was a nice change, would be the understatement of the decade.

The dog seems entirely unaware of the situation, as if he just had a nice nap. He runs over to Charles and Erik, enthusiastic as always.

“It’s good to see you, Conrad,” Charles says, before petting Magnet, who’s very busy sniffing the wheelchair and his wrists. Wagging his tale, the dog finds a spot on the floor, in the short distance between him and Erik, to lie on his back and offer his belly for petting. Erik gives in and gives his dog a well deserved belly rub.

“Thank you for taking care of Magnet,” Charles says.

The man shrugs. “When Hank asked I couldn’t say no. He’s probably the smartest creature in the building.”

Erik snorts, earning him a frown from the gatekeeper. “Hank or the dog?”

“Why the dog of course,” Conrad explains as if that’s the obvious deduction. Conrad still _adores_ other people. Nothing changed there.

Erik can tell Charles is nearing the end of his tether. Conrad seems to pick up on that as well. Probably because Charles is the only person around here Conrad likes enough to look at.

“You look rather pale,” Conrad notes. “If you boys need rest I can look after Magnet a while longer.”

He wants to say no and take the dog with them, mostly because he’d feared the worst, but Conrad seems as if he’d like some more time with Magnet and he and Charles could really use the rest, knowing that their dog is taken care of.

“Alright.”

Charles looks at him in shock.

“I should take you to Hank.”

“Hank’s busy, so is Wu. I can wait till  tomorrow. I’d like a good night’s sleep.”

He nods. “But you’re getting looked at tomorrow. Our quarters it is.”

“I’ll listen to whatever Hank says, now I just really feel the need to go to our quarters.” Charles gives him a slight smile. “Brush my teeth, maybe a shower if you'd be so kind to help out. Oh and sleep, lots of sleeping.”

He can actually feel Charles’ need to see their quarters, his exhaustion and his need to have Erik to himself just for tonight. Even amongst the chaos Charles wants to have that before they have you return to reality. He can hardly say no to that.

As soon as they reach their room and head inside they hear a familiar voice. The light out in the corridor allows them to see a figure in the back of the room near the bathroom entrance.

“Do come in and shut the door. We have a lot to discuss. Oh and turn on the light so I can enjoy the look on your faces. And Charles, I think it goes without saying you don’t alert anyone of my little visit. If I even suspect you’re using that mind of yours I will shoot dear Erik. I believe you have reason enough to believe me when I say I won’t hesitate.” He pauses for a second and waits for them to comply.

“For someone I already killed once you look surprisingly well, Erik.”

Shaw is right there in their quarters, sitting in one of the chairs, looking relaxed with his legs crossed. If they didn’t know any better the only thing giving away his animosity would be the gun in his hand.

“Did you even try to escape?” Erik asks.

“I never left. _This_ is my escape. You’d think that they’d check under the bed, but clearly everyone seems to think that’s the stuff of horror films.”

“You _are_ the stuff of horror films,” Charles reminds him, a bit too casually. Erik would smirk, but then this isn’t the time nor the place and it would be highly inappropriate of him to think that this is even remotely funny. He knows Charles isn’t joking either, he’s never seen him this sick of something of someone.

“Charles, I’d like you to undo what you did to me.”

“I can’t. It’s permanent. And even if I could I wouldn’t.”

“Should you be talking like that to the man holding the gun?” Shaw wonders.

Erik actually agrees with that. Charles clearly doesn’t give a fuck anymore.

“You need Emma,” Shaw guesses correctly.

“You have no choice but to leave. I’ll even help you get out,” Charles offers.

Erik doubts Shaw sees it that way.

“How about you come with me, Charles?”

That again. He’s not losing Charles, and definitely not letting him out of his sight.

Charles sighs. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, in which case I suggest you talk to an optician and get yourself some corrective lenses, but you put me in a fucking wheelchair, you arsehole.” He calms down a bit before concluding:  “Not the fastest getaway, I think.”

Shaw looks pleased of all things.

“You always know how to make me laugh.”

It’s the creepiest thing Erik’s heard in a good while.

“Erik can come too, he can push the wheelchair and if you don’t hide us from whomever we encounter -"

“You’ll shoot Erik,” Charles guesses.

“I’ll _kill_ Erik, but close enough. You’re learning.”

' _Plan?’_ Charles sends to his mind.

' _Not just yet,’_ Erik thinks back.

' _Then we comply for now_.’

  



	26. Chapter 26

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to go ahead and post this before I change my mind. Needless to say i'm not very happy with this, but once the story is finished I'll probably add more detail.   
> Also: all typos, grammatical errors and spelling mistakes are still my fault and mine alone.   
> As for the medical parts in this story: I'm not a doctor and while I try to do research I'm sure it shows that I'm by no means an expert.
> 
> I hope you continue to enjoy.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos and comments so far. It means a lot. ♥

(Erik)

Shaw makes them stay in front of him, so he can keep his gun trained on Erik’s back. Erik doesn’t doubt a psychopath like Shaw won’t hesitate to pull the trigger.

They run into a few of the survivors, but the operatives don’t seem to notice them as they pass by and walk around the three of them. Obviously, Charles is sticking to their lack of a plan for now. He wonders if they’re approaching this the right way. In their defence: it’s not as if they have a lot of options to choose from.

They take the lift to the entrance, something which puts them in a small space with Shaw. He can almost hear Charles wonder the same thing he is thinking. But no, unfortunately this is not the time to attempt to grab Shaw’s gun, as Shaw makes Erik stand in the back of the lift, with Charles and his wheelchair sideways between the both of them. He has the gun pressed to Charles’ shoulder blade now and he doesn’t want to consider what sort of damage that would do.

Charles looks up at him as if to say he’d be okay with that, _if_ it got rid of Shaw.

Well, he’s not okay with that, and firing a weapon in such small space isn’t the brightest of ideas either.

So they wait until they’re outside, until Erik thinks the chance of hurting Charles in the process of killing Shaw with his bare hands declines.

Once outside he pushes Charles to the dirt road, which isn’t an easy feat. The unmowed grass and sand aren’t willing to give them a break. He can tell Charles has had it.

_'I’m going to try something, be ready. I’m going to need your help.’_

He wants to ask what exactly but he trusts Charles and that brain of his enough to think of something.

Charles puts on his brakes and makes sure Shaw sees the movement.

“Charles?” Erik asks, as if not expecting anything.

_'Erik, I need you to collapse and pretend to be unconscious.’_

How does he even respond to that? _Fine_?

' _This had better be one very good plan,’_ he thinks first, before allowing gravity to pull him down like a rag doll. He hopes it looks realistic enough, Shaw isn’t just going to buy this. His ribs don’t agree with the hug the hard dirt path gives them. Then there’s the kick in the ribs Shaw gives him for good measure, a rather painful moment he has to pretend he doesn’t feel.

“He won’t be conscious any time soon. I've been thinking,” Charles says casually, drawing Shaw’s attention away from him.

“Is that so?”

“We’re all intelligent people. You’ve managed to mislead us multiple times, I’ll grant you that. By now we know how dangerous it is to mess with you.”

“Go on.”

“Here’s the problem with that: do you honestly think I will do anything for you if you hurt or kill Erik?”

Charles allows Shaw to consider that for a moment. Erik considers it too, mostly thinking up back-up plans in case this doesn’t work.

“And if he comes with us I have no guarantee you won’t,” Charles continues.

Erik keeps quiet and still when Shaw moves away from him. It takes everything not to move, knowing exactly what Charles is doing. Charles sounds honest and trustworthy. The way he relays the words you’d want to believe he was telling the truth. But Charles doesn’t intend to go with Shaw, not at all. He knows him well enough to read his intentions. He’s just luring Shaw closer and from the sound of Shaw’s footsteps he’d say it’s working.

“Which means your only shot is to brainwash me. I’m going to give myself a little credit and guess that will take a while.”

Shaw takes another step closer, probably standing next to or in front of Charles.

“Or I torture Erik in front of you and see how long it takes before you do my bidding.”

“You’d give me hope. Hope for a rescue, for Erik’s sake. And if you kill him I’d have nothing to live for. In both cases I'd fight you until the very end. I'd keep looking for a way to destroy you no matter how many helmets you might have to block my abilities. I really do suggest you pick the option right in the middle.”

“I let Erik go?”

“I’d still fight you, of course. That goes without saying. But I'd be more malleable.”

“I didn’t think I’d have to remind you,” Shaw says.

Erik cracks his eyes open, just a little, to see what's happening. Shaw’s focused entirely on Charles. Perhaps he could get up and-

' _Not just yet_ ,’ Charles tells him.

Shaw moves his head closer to Charles’ ear. The next words are barely a whisper: “What makes you think I believe any of that? I killed your sister and I enjoyed it. Just like I will enjoy killing Erik in front of you. Or perhaps, since you don’t plan on being useful to me, I should torture both of you at the same time and see who dies first.”

“No, I didn’t think you would believe me,” Charles notes.

That’s the moment Charles chooses to surprise Shaw by stabbing him with Raven’s blade.

_'Now would be good.’_

Erik doesn’t bother checking where the knife went. He’s up and running toward Shaw the second he hears Charles in his head. He pulls the psychopath with him to the ground, the gun flying out of reach. The impact takes his breath away and he needs a moment before he can hit Shaw in the face. Shaw responds in kind by kneeing him in the groin, which has him howling in pain and dropping on his sore ribs.

Shaw pulls the knife out of his side, an opportunity Erik uses to kick him in the shin and get him to his knees.

Adrenaline's pumping through his veins, enough to stay alert and see Shaw’s next move coming as he tries to slash Erik with the knife. The knife misses him by an inch and he grabs Shaw’s right arm and pulls him forward making him lose his balance.

He can feel Charles’ presence as he fights Shaw and struggles for the knife. Charles is watching his back while looking for a way to end their fight as quickly as possible.

Shaw tries to stab him, but instead of reaching its destiny, Erik’s throat, the knife embeds itself in the palm of Erik’s outstretched hand.

Using the rage coursing through his body, Erik slams the elbow of his other arm into Shaw’s stomach. It’s enough to knock Shaw to the ground.

Shaw raises his hands in defeat. “Are you going to kill an unarmed man while he’s down and surrendering?”

“Clearly you don’t know me very well.”

' _Erik he’s not unarmed_.’

But it’s already too late as Shaw pulls out a taser and doesn’t hesitate to use it on him. He doesn’t quite feel it when he hits the grass, the bolts of pain shooting through his body more than overwhelming enough. He can’t order his body to move as it spasms, his muscles completely unreliant.

“Drop it,” Charles orders, having somehow made his way to the gun in the meantime.

“Why of course,” Shaw says as he throws the taser far enough away from them.

“What about you? Are _you_ going to shoot an unarmed, injured man?”

Charles simply responds by pulling the trigger and shooting him in the leg before limping closer.

“I’d like you to rot away in prison. With your powers gone I think we could manage that.”

Shaw drags himself closer to where Erik is lying.

“Don’t think I won’t shoot you again.*

“I don’t doubt it,” Shaw says, ignoring Charles and moving even closer to Erik.

There’s a clicking sound, followed by another and another. Shaw looks up at Charles as he pulls the blade out of Erik’s hand, eliciting a groan.

“I only ever needed one bullet,” Shaw explains. He somehow manages to get on his feet rather quickly, holding Raven’s knife in his right hand. Charles drops the gun, hoping to defend himself with both hands.

“How do you want to do this, Charles? Ideally, I’d make you stab Erik in the heart with my powers. Quite Shakespearean, I think,” Shaw says, moving closer to Charles.

“You could give me my knife back.”

Shaw laughs. “I really am going to miss your non-sequiturs.”

Charles stays put as Shaw moves closer, not avoiding the conflict.

Erik wants to tell Charles to run, but he fears Shaw would still be quicker despite the bullet hole in his leg. Then there’s the fact Charles wouldn’t leave him behind.

 _'Bloody right I won’t, but it would be great if you could get up and get over here. I might need a hand_.’

Shaw takes his sweet time looking at Charles, as if there’s something to read other than the obvious hatred, as if daring him to make a move first.

With a swift movement Shaw tries to stab Charles in the side in an attempt to return the favour. Luckily Charles manages to predict the action and twist his body sideways just in time. Erik is rather impressed when Charles uses Shaw’s moment of obvious surprise to slam his forehead into the psycho’s nose, making him reel backward. He continues his defence by throwing his weight into Shaw, which is enough to tackle him to the ground.

Erik can’t quite get up yet, but he’s willing every inch of his body to cooperate. He can only watch as Shaw manages to twist and pin Charles under him, hands on his throat and choking him. Erik spots the knife beside them, neglected in the struggle, but perhaps not entirely out of Charles' reach.

' _Charles, move your left hand to the left,'_ he thinks as loudly as he can manage.

At first he isn’t sure if the movement he sees is a response to his information or just part of the struggle for air as Shaw still seems intent on closing Charles’ windpipe.

He can tell it takes all of Charles’ remaining strength to grab the blade by its hilt and jab it into Shaw’s body.

An ugly gasping sound makes it way out of Charles' throat as soon as the pressure's gone. It continues for a lot longer than he can bear to hear.

Shaw crawls away from Charles and rises to his feet. There’s nothing elegant about it but he’s soon towering over Charles, knife sticking out of the inside of his upper arm. He throws a glance at Erik who’s still struggling to get his muscles under control.

“Pathetic,” Shaw notes. He puts his boot and part of his weight on Charles’ throat. “Just a little more and it’ll all be over.”

What he doesn’t take into account is a certain German Shepherd running at him and grabbing hold of his arm with his sharp teeth. Very sharp teeth from the looks of it.

Erik figures there’s something odd about Shaw’s pain receptors. Anyone else would be howling in pain and begging for surrender. Yet Shaw seems… mildly agitated. How he even manages to grab Magnet and throw him against one of the trees is an utter mystery to him. Perhaps it’s just a combination of self-love, his will to survive and adrenaline, but given his powers it could just as well be part of his genetic make-up.

Magnet yelps when he hits the trunk. Favoring his right hind leg, he prepares to charge Shaw again, not giving up on protecting his owners.

' _Tell him to stay, Erik.’_

Erik isn’t sure he can actually get any words out but he'll have a better time trying than Charles. “Magnet, _no._ Stay.”

The dog looks confused but listens.

“That’s cute, protecting your dog. But ultimately: foolish.”

He removes the blade from his arm. And while blood has already been steadily running down the limb it doesn’t compare to the amount Shaw starts losing as soon as the knife’s removed.

' _Brachial artery_ ,’ Charles tells Erik.

“Not as foolish as that,” Erik notes dryly, finally managing to get to his knees.

In combination with his other wounds Shaw sinks to the ground, looking lost of all things. He doesn’t say anything, accepting the weakening state of his body as he falls down and closes his eyes. He knows it’s over.

Erik drags himself over to where Charles is lying, placing a shaking hand on Charles’ forehead in a gesture of comfort. Charles is still wheezing, trying to draw in more oxygen, which doesn’t seem to be working that well.

“What in the-”

It’s Conrad’s voice. The gatekeeper probably followed their dog’s tracks.

“I’ll get help,” he says, then runs off.

Magnet limps closer, nudging his side with his nose as if telling him to do something.

There’s not much he can do while waiting so he grabs Charles’ hand and holds it tight.  

 _‘It’ll be okay_ ,’ Charles tells him.

“How do you know?”

' _Psychic_ ,’ Charles jokes.

“That’s so far from funny.”

Charles closes his eyes for a bit but reopens them when Erik increases the pressure on his hand.

' _You and Magnet okay_?’

“We will be. Okay enough for now.”

Magnet moves his snout in Charles’ view, blocking Erik’s in the process. He watches as Charles pets the dog weakly and bestows him with the affection he deserves for saving them.

 _'Can't breathe,'_ Charles admits.

"Someone will be here soon," he reassures, hoping he's telling the truth. "Try not to move."

Everything else happens in a blur as his body seems to run out of adrenaline. He feels dazed, probably the effects of the taser still. Erik’s been tased before but that had felt like an entirely different experience. This wasn’t the usual sort of market-approved taser. Then there’s the hole in his hand he should probably care about.

But he’s alive, and Charles is alive even though Charles’ breathing is very worrisome.

Their dog is alive, alive enough to look pissed off at the lack of action he’s getting.

He knows they take him inside on a stretcher. En route to the infirmary he hears a bunch of familiar voices. There’s the prick of a needle and, not much later, the feeling he’s floating.

There’s a moment of consciousness, perhaps a few of them. Hank makes an appearance, he thinks. He isn’t sure how accurate that is.

When he wakes up, actually wakes up, the infirmary is quiet and the lights dimmed. It must be late evening or perhaps night. He tries to decide which based on Hank’s appearance as the scientist moves away from his desk in the back of the room. He must’ve noticed a change in his heartbeat or something.

“Where’s Charles?” he asks before Hank can ask anything.

Hank points to Erik’s left. “Right there.”

He’s so out of it he hasn’t even looked around.

“We figured neither of you would accept a different arrangement.”

Charles looks… bad.  There are too many machines for starters. There’s a tube running down his throat. The bottom of his throat is covered, but he can see a lot of the extensive bruising on the rest of Charles’ pale skin.

“Will he be okay?”

“I’ll tell you what,” Hank offers sympathetically, “I’ll tell you all about Charles and you promise to get some rest.”

He nods without moving his eyes away from Charles.

“He was barely breathing when we found you; we suspected serious laryngotracheal trauma.” Hank continues before Erik can ask what the fuck that means in human speak. He has an idea, but he’s not a doctor and he’d rather not come up with scenarios himself. “In short the blunt trauma damaged his windpipe. We chose to do a tracheotomy. We didn’t want to take any risks doing a regular intubation, this way we bypassed his upper airway. After evaluation we took Charles into surgery to repair his trachea. The surgery was successful.”

“There’s a but.”

Hank nods. “His airway is open again, but it’s a complicated procedure and while everything went as well as could be expected we’ll have to keep a close eye on him for complications. We’re keeping him intubated and sedated for now to avoid re-injury. But of course we’ll extubate as soon as we think it’s safe.”

He nods, taking that in. “His leg?”

“Wu's assessed the damage. He thinks more surgery is in order, but he wants to talk to Charles first.”

Wait. If they've done all that by now then…

He looks at Hank in shock “How long have I been sleeping?”

“A little over a day. You were exhausted before all this. It’s quite normal for your body to take advantage of an opportunity to rest.”

That explains why he needs to pee. “And yet you want me to sleep more.”

“You want to be there for Charles when he wakes up, don’t you?”

“Smartass.”

Hank smiles. “Since you made that promise, I’m going to leave you to it. Do you need anything for the pain?”

He shakes his head. “I’m pretty sure you’ve given me enough for now. I could use a trip to the loo, though.”

“I’m not going to stop you there. Do you need help?”

Erik snorts. “I think I can manage.”

“Just go slow and give a yell if you need me.”

He nods as he pushes the blankets back and moves himself to the edge of the bed. His body is already wondering what the fuck he’s doing. Hank is watching him closely but doesn’t make a move. He pushes on and gets to his feet. There’s a pair of slippers he puts on before shuffling to the bathroom, dragging the IV stand along, and relieving himself. He barely recognises the man he sees in the mirror, he looks older. He washes his hands and splashes his face. When he exits the bathroom Hank is still there, ready to walk him back to his bed.

“In case you’re interested in your own prognosis: you’ll be okay. You have a couple of cracked ribs, bruises all over and your hand required some careful handling. You’re going to be very sore for a while. So rest and we’re here every step of the way.”

“Magnet?” he asks as he eases himself down on the bed again. He hurts all over, a deep ache.

“Sprained leg. Conrad’s taking care of him. I’ve never seen him like anyone or anything as much as he likes your dog. I’m seeing an entirely different side of him.”

“Shaw’s gone, right?”

Hank nods reassuringly. “Can’t get much deader.”

“That’s good.”

He relaxes a bit knowing Shaw can no longer harm the people he loves.

“Hank?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

Hank shakes his head. “Just doing my job. Sort of. Just rest and get better. That’s enough.”

There’s a lot more he wants to know, but for now he’s content with the information he has. He turns his head to the left on his pillow so he can look at Charles before closing his eyes and giving in to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For two seconds I thought about giving Charles a break...  
> Then I laughed at the thought because I'm obviously a horrible person. Sorry, Charles.


	27. Chapter 27

(Erik)  
  
He spends the next day resting in bed and sitting in a chair next to Charles’ bed holding his hand. Hank tells him to be patient and Wu says they were lucky he wasn't drinking yet when Conrad came in looking for medical help. A drunk surgeon is one you don’t want near your throat with a scalpel. Wu isn’t trying to be funny when he says all that, which leads Erik to think there’s a story there, not one he wants to know.

They’re not the only patients in the infirmary. Most of them are either comatose or brain damaged, hidden behind privacy curtains, reminders of what Shaw single-handedly managed to do and the scale of it.

“What’s going to happen to them? Will they make it?” He’s still holding Charles’ hand when he asks.

“I don’t know,” Hank tells him quietly. “We look for their relatives and transfer them to a hospital. After that the decision is theirs. I don’t know what the official story will be, but it won’t be the truth.”

It’s what he suspected. “The hospital in question…”

“The right people know what they need to know.”

He nods. There’s a silence Alexandrei interrupts by walking in. He stops beside the bed but looks at Hank first.

“Go ahead,” Hank says, “but keep it down. If he gets tired-”

Alexandrei smiles. “I’ll _make_ him rest.”

Hank walks back to his desk and leaves him alone with the Russian operative. The man takes his time giving him and Charles the once-over. Then he grabs a chair and puts it down next to his.

“I know the prognosis but I’d rather hear it from you. How are you?” he asks, sitting down in the cushioned chair.

“I’m alright, just bruised.”

“That _does_ look like a bruise,” Alexandrei replies, meaning his hand. The Russian looks tired.

“Other than that,” he corrects himself. “It’ll heal. Are you here to find out what happened?”

“Da. I have to run a tight ship.”

Fair enough, he supposes. Frankly he’s surprised it took him this long to get here, but then it’s Alexandrei who seems like a decent human being with proper morals.

“He was waiting for us in our quarters.”

Alexandrei actually curses in Russian when he reveals that. It sounds colourful.

“I’m sorry. We had people look for him everywhere.” He shouldn’t be apologising for anything. They were all in the same situation.

“He said they didn't look under the bed.”

“I’m going to find out who’s responsible,” Alexandrei promises, making a few notes in the process. The Russian’s scribble doesn’t look like much, but as long as he can read his own handwriting, Erik doesn’t see a problem.

“Whoever it is, is probably still alive _because_ they didn’t look under the bed,” Erik points out. “Shaw had a gun. And a taser, but we didn’t know about the taser until later.”

“You’re saying he went to the armory.”

He nods. “Seems likely. Didn’t look like a regular taser and I’ve seen plenty of those.”

He’s felt the effects of plenty of those, but he ‘forgets’ to mention that.

“Go on.”

“He wanted to take Charles with him; threatened me to achieve it. Kept his gun trained on me to keep Charles compliant. We weren’t planning on going with him, not really.”

Alexandrei nods. “Just looking for the right opportunity.”

“Charles told me to pretend he’d knocked me out or put me to sleep. Said he had a plan. He started talking to Shaw, appealing to his ego.”

“That might’ve worked in the beginning.”

“Charles knew that, we both did. He was just trying to lure him closer, he still had Raven’s knife. Shaw did have a weak spot for hearing Charles talk.”

There’s a bit of an uncomfortable silence before Alexandrei asks: “Is that why he-”

“Tried to choke him? Maybe, who knows? Charles stabbed him in the side. I tackled him, we fought, he stabbed my hand. He tased me.”

“Breathe,” Alexandrei suggests.

Erik would laugh, if he felt the sentiment. Since when is Alexandrei the poster boy for serenity? But yes, he is rattling things off, because he doesn’t want to recall any of it if he can help it.

“I don’t know how much time passed until I heard Charles’ voice asking Shaw to drop the taser. He shot him in the leg. Not sure if that was meant as payback,” he muses. Either way he’s proud of Charles for pulling the trigger. No matter how many times you hold a gun, it takes courage to pull the trigger, even when you’re aiming for someone as malicious as Shaw. “Charles tried to shoot him again when he tried to get the knife back. The gun was empty, only had one bullet in it to begin with. So he… took the knife, ignored me and went back to Charles. Charles has some interesting reflexes you wouldn’t attribute to him.”

“He’s very resilient.”

Erik’s not sure if that’s the word he’d use. Recalcitrant, perhaps. Or both. Either way he’s happy about it, they wouldn’t be here if not for Charles and his tendency of not giving up.

“They ended up on the ground and Shaw started choking him. The knife fell next to them and I told Charles where it was. He managed to stab Shaw in the arm. ”

“Brachial artery.”

Erik nods. “He just didn’t know it yet. He got to his feet to speed things up. He erm… put his boot on Charles’ throat. Charles wasn’t breathing well before that. If Magnet hadn't come running… he'd be gone now.”

“But it’s the blood loss that killed him.”

“He managed to get Magnet off him and I told the dog to back off at Charles’ request. Either he really likes our dog or he knew Shaw would pull the knife out of his arm. Shaw collapsed and Conrad found us. The rest you know.”

The Russian nods, closing his notebook and putting it back in the back pocket of his jeans. “And this took long enough. Is there anything I can do at the moment?” He throws a glance at Charles, then returns his gaze to Erik.

“Hope for the best?”

“Already on it. Let me know if there’s anything else. I’m busy but tell Hank to give me a call and I’ll be here as soon as I can.”

Alexandrei puts the chair back and moves to the other side of Charles’ bed. “Da, you rest. Just remember I didn’t drag you out of that basement for nothing. Get better, we need to talk.”

And for some reason, despite the choice of Alexandrei’s words, the message sounds extremely heartfelt. It almost makes Erik choke up.

He’s tired. Perhaps he needs to give himself a break and sleep a bit. Rubbing Charles’ knuckles one more time with his thumb for reassurance he drags himself back to bed and closes his eyes.

\--

Of all people, Moira is sitting in a chair between his bed and Charles’. He’s just opened his eyes and she’s staring right at him.

He ignores her for a second to see if Charles is still there.

She raises her hand before he can speak. “I’m allowed to be here. I know what happened and Darwin and Alex are here too. As is Sean. Hank said you two should not have too many visitors. I decided you could handle me. I mean, I rushed to catch the first available flight to England. The least I deserve is to see your faces. ”

“I appreciate the worry,” Erik reads between the lines.

“Sorry we all got here too late.”

“Charles knew you wouldn’t make it in time. You were our back-up plan.”

“I guess we’ll all stick around for now. I went to see Raven. I didn’t know her very well, but it seemed like the right thing to do. And I know Charles.”

“He hasn’t had time to process any of it.”

“I figured. They’re not making any arrangements until Charles is well enough to help with those decisions.”

“He’ll appreciate that.”

“I should go,” she says, getting up from her seat. She walks over to Charles and gives him a careful kiss on his forehead before moving to Erik and doing the same.

Erik’s first instinct is to jump at the sudden show of affection. Instead of freaking out he makes himself relax and accept the genuine concern.

“Take care. We’re here, for both of you.”

“Thanks.”

He stares at the ceiling for a while after Moira’s visit. A nurse checks up on him, tells him he’ll be released soon. He’s not very happy with that; it means he’ll have to rest in their quarters, alone. Perhaps if he reasons with Hank they’ll let him stay, if only for a while longer. He’ll take any reason. He can tell the scientist it’s a selfish thing, perhaps even throw in some emotional blackmail. After all, worrying is not going to help him heal any faster.

When the moment comes it’s Hank, in fact, who suggests he sticks around.

“We’re low on staff and we have the bed to spare. I’d like for you to move around, but it would make me feel better to have someone watch over Charles when I can’t be here. I trust Wu and the nurses, but we all have a lot on our minds in general and it would be an extra reassurance.”

He agrees, of course.

Erik is tempted to ask Logan for a run, but he doubts that’s what Hank means by move around. His body wouldn’t be very grateful either. He opts for taking his dog for a very slow walk. Magnet’s quite happy with his decision, bouncing around him when he mentions the secret code word ‘walkies’. Conrad raises an eyebrow when he uses the word, because apparently his ego takes a beating every time he uses that particular piece of vocabulary. Compared to the beating he took three days ago he’s certain his ego will be fine.

Erik allows himself a shower and some proper food before he heads back to the infirmary. He even takes a small amount of time to find himself a book to read to pass the time. He hopes the crime novel, by a famous Norwegian author, will prove to be a good distraction. He can’t vouch for his ability to concentrate, but he’ll give it a try.

There’s been a steady stream of visitors, but everything is quiet now. One of the nurses drops by to check on Charles, reassuring him everything’s normal enough. Wu comes by as well, carrying documents under his arm. He nods in greeting and heads for the desk Hank usually mans. The very least Erik can say is that he respects everyone for working long hours, trying to make do with so little sleep and cope with the loss of their colleagues. It’s not something anyone should take for granted.

So Erik reads and tries not to bother anyone, making an exception to help out a petite nurse with some cardboard boxes, likely containing someone’s personal effects.

It’s strange that it’s over; to be able to eat and sleep without having to worry when you’ll be able to do so again. They’ll look over their shoulder for a while to come, but it’s a small price to pay for being alive and free.

He’s reading but not paying much attention when he starts feeling unwell. At first he chalks it up to stress, knowing fully well that he wouldn’t be the first to get an ulcer after the facts. Erik feels jittery, unsure what to do with himself. He’s sweating, his heart thumping in his chest.The more he considers his symptoms the more he thinks he’s having some sort of sudden panic attack. Erik tells himself to calm down, that his fears are irrational. He’s safe, Charles is safe and Shaw is very dead. Unless Shaw can somehow manage to come back from the dead, there’s no reason to fret.

Rationalising doesn’t help. He still can’t breathe, as if something’s obstructing… That’s when it hits him. He knows what’s going on.

He almost leaps out of bed of bed to check on Charles, immediately taking his hand. Charles isn’t moving but his heart rate’s increasing. He expects alarms to start blaring any second, but he doesn’t wait for that. He presses the call button right away.

“Charles?”

He feels Charles’ hand twitch in his own, which in his opinion is bad, he’s not supposed to do that.

“Get over here!” he yells, knowing fully well someone’s already on their way, but it might help.

Movement catches his eye, a slight move of Charles’ head followed by a hand reaching for his throat and eyes opening in full blown panic.

 _Fuck_. What is he supposed to do?

“Charles? You’re alright, you’ll be alright. I need you to stay still. Don’t move your head.” he gently draws Charles’ hand away from the tracheal tube, before placing his own hands on either side of Charles’ head, hoping it won’t increase the panic. “You’re okay. It’s me, Erik.”

 _‘Erik?’_ Charles isn’t actively speaking to him, it feels more as if he recognises his presence, the shape of his hands and the sound of his voice, but other than that the panic seems too overwhelming. He can tell Charles still feels like he’s choking.

“Try not to fight it.” Advice he feels is utterly ridiculous. Try not to notice there’s a fucking tube down your throat. He wants to be angry, Charles isn’t supposed to be awake right now. They were going to extubate and then wake him up.

Charles’ eyes close again, but he’s not asleep, still stuck in a panic, somewhere between the sedation and waking up. He’s sort of grateful for that, even though he’d rather not see this happen in general. At least he's not _fully_ aware of what's happening.

Wu runs in with a nurse trailing right behind him. They didn’t take long to get back to the infirmary, but long enough in Erik’s opinion.

Wu looks at Erik and Charles first, immediately reading the situation correctly. “Stay like that, keep him still.”

Having checked the equipment Wu comes up with nothing, because apparently _nothing_ is wrong. Wu always seems to pretend he knows everything, but now he just looks at his data, not entirely sure what to do. The doctor looks confused.

“What is it?”

“The drugs in his system. I can’t give him more. He’s just had another dose. Which means we either extubate now or find out why he’s no longer responding to the drugs and fix that.”

“Neither sounds like an immediate solution.”

Wu shakes his head. “The first option is risky this early and the second presupposes time we don’t have.”

As Erik stands there, ridiculously worried, he wonders if there’s anything he can do. His brain’s tired but there must be something they can think of. If there’s nothing wrong medically then… it has to be something specific, linked to Charles. He doesn’t have to look far to come up with something.

“Get Emma Frost.”

Wu searches his face for a moment before nodding and telling his nurse to go look for her. “Tell her it’s urgent.” The young woman runs off, clearly aware of the stakes.

“You need me?”

Erik nearly jumps out of his skin when he hears Frost’s voice. Either she knew they’d need her or she was passing by by accident. Erik doesn't believe in coincidences like he used to.

“I was on my way here. Felt like I needed to come.”

The nurse retakes her position beside Wu, who looks rather calm, as he always does.

“He should be sedated but he’s no longer responding to the medication,” Erik explains as Frost moves closer.

“What do you want me to do? I’m not as good as he is. I can’t just put him back to sleep.”

He doesn’t know the answer to that. He thinks he can trust her, sort of. Charles trusts her.

“Try to connect to him? Anything that could help.”

He knows he sounds a little desperate, but all of this was supposed to be over. Charles shouldn’t have to suffer more than he already has.

She nods and drags a chair closer to the bed before sitting down and taking Charles’ left hand in both of her hands. She closes her eyes.

Charles’ eyelids flutter for a moment but nothing else happens, not visibly anyway. After a while Charles’ heartbeat seems to go down again, slowly.

When Frost opens her eyes again and lets go of Charles' hand, giving it a pat in the process, she’s smiling.

“Guess I was right to come over.”

Wu immediately busies himself rechecking Charles’ vitals. Erik, meanwhile, lets go of Charles’ head.

“He’s under,” Wu confirms, but clearly doesn’t have an inkling as to the why and the how.

“The drugs weren’t working because he was fighting them. And he didn’t even know he was doing it. That man of yours doesn’t realise what he can do.”

Erik frowns. “Why would he do that?” Never mind the _how_.

The smile is back on her face. “Because he was worried about you, Romeo.” She gets up and prepares to leave again. “He seemed satisfied knowing you’re okay. You’re probably not going to have this problem again. If for some reason you do, you know where to find me.”

That’s reassuring, he thinks. He moves to sit on the bed, allowing Wu and the nurse to do their job. “Don’t do this to me again,” he says, hoping Charles can somehow hear him.

 

(Charles)

The infirmary's ceiling is very similar to the one in their quarters. The first time he manages to get his eyes open, which he considers his first lucid moment after killing Shaw, he thinks he’s lying beside Erik. Deep down he knows that’s not right, but he stares at the ceiling for a while, blinking in confusion. It’s just as high, but his peripheral vision tells him there’s a lot more space around the bed he’s lying in and, sadly, no Erik. Hank’s face appears in his line of sight, saying his name and telling him not to move too much. His body doesn't want to move much anyway. He’s exhausted and sore and his throat feels parched.

“Erik?” He tries to say but it doesn’t sound like a name, or like anything at all. His voice is unrecognisable and weak. He keeps himself from coughing, assuming that would be a bad idea.

“You had surgery to fix your larynx,” Hank explains. “I’d rather you don’t speak, so your throat can heal. You don't want to upset Wu by undoing his handiwork; there’s a risk of complications. We had you intubated for a few days.”

The odd part is that he sort of remembers the sensation of something obstructing his airway. He remembers everything that happened with Shaw and not being able to breathe, but everything after that seems lost or simplified to sensations he can’t place.

 _'Erik?’_ he thinks instead, pleading with Hank for an answer.

“He’s alright. Promise. We’ll take you back to the infirmary in a bit. He’s waiting. But first I’d like to go over a few things.”

_‘Okay?’_

He is as uncertain as he sounds in his own head.

“As I said: no talking for a while. I know a speech therapist and he’ll guide your progress for the next couple of days.”

_'Am I going to get my voice back? Not that I’m complaining. I mean I can still communicate, but...’_

He’s kind of freaking out.

“I think you will. I’m not promising anything, but all in all the damage could’ve been a lot worse.”

The damage could’ve killed him, for one.

 _'I’m thirsty_ ,’ he tells Hank, hoping he doesn't seem as whiny as he feels. He could really do with some water.

“Yes,” the scientist says. “That’s the next thing I need to discuss with you. I can only give you ice chips for now, but we’ll move on to liquids as soon as we can and solid food after that.” Hank moves out of sight for a while and comes back holding a cup with some ice chips. “Here, this should help a bit.”

He opens his mouth immediately not caring if that seems greedy. It’s heaven on his tongue. And then Hank offers him another one. He’s never been this grateful for frozen water.

_'Thank you.’_

Hank smiles, putting the cup and spoon on the nightstand.

“You’re welcome. And I know you’re thinking you could’ve done that yourself, which might be true, but I don’t want you to do anything strenuous.”

_'I’m lying in a bed, Hank.’_

“I’m aware, just saying you’re a bit more fragile than you probably think you are, so no sudden or wild movements.”

_'I’ll try not to hurt myself.’_

“Or jump Erik the moment you see him.”

 _'That’s slightly inappropriate, isn’t it?’_ he chides, but he’s smiling. He’s going to see Erik again soon and Hank gets it. He probably would jump him if he could.

“Alright alright,” Hank says, clearly picking up on his giddiness. “Final thing: Wu will drop by later today to talk about your leg.”

_‘How bad is it?’_

“Bad enough that you need more surgery. I’ll let him do the explaining but he said you’re not necessarily worse off than before. He thinks he can get you back on the same road to recovery.”

_'That’s good, right?’_

“Yes, but it’ll take a while, longer than before.”

Charles gives a slight nod in acknowledgment. _‘I suspected as much.’_

 _‘How long have I been asleep?’_ he asks next. _  
_

“Four days, nearly five. We had to keep you sedated until we could remove the breathing tube.”

_'Raven, did I miss-’_

He tries hard not to panic but it’s easier said than done. It’s bad enough that he’s lost his baby sister. He needs to say goodbye to her.

“You didn’t miss anything. Try to stay calm, Charles. It’s alright. Alexandrei made sure to wait until you were better and able to talk to him.”

He’s such a mess. How is he going to cope with any of it? He knows he has to, of course. Charles also knows he has Erik, every step of the way.

_'Take me to Erik, please?’_

He tries not to sob, but he’s certain there’s at least one tear making and escape down his face.

Hank nods.  “Of course.”

The main ward of the base’s infirmary is only a door away but Erik isn’t waiting near his bed, he’s right by the door, looking very impatient and worried. Erik has the patience of a 6-year-old, but Charles loves that about him, especially when the impatience is a result his absence. He feels the same, in all honesty. He could’ve reached out through their link, but he wants to see Erik and feel his mind at the same time, touch him to know it’s all real.

When he finally sees Erik, he’s sure not to look away, not even for a second. Charles smiles at him and reaches out with his hand, an offer Erik accepts in a heartbeat.

 _'Missed you,’_ he says via their link.

Erik’s grip on his hand tells him the feeling's mutual.

“You might want to explain how that works in an artificial coma.”

 _'Are you saying you missed me more_?’

Erik tilts his head, still studying every inch of his face. “Maybe,” he says, “except I don't think I would've tried to outsmart a coma to tell you just how much. You scared all of us.”

The glare Hank sends Erik tells him Erik wasn’t supposed to bring this up yet.

_'I don’t remember.’_

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing.”

 _'What happened_?’

Erik glances at Hank for a split second, earning him a sigh. “Judging from your end of the conversation you’ve already told him enough to make him curious. So go ahead and exhaust him further.”

 _‘l’m alright, Hank._ Really.’

“I’ll believe it when you can actually say it.” Hank tells the nurse to move his bed to the back of the ward. Once the bed’s in place Hank half-closes the privacy curtain to give them some space. The young scientist is busy checking the wires and machinery around him while Erik explains what happened.

“Emma said you managed to filter out the sedative. We had her put you back to sleep.”

_'I did what?’_

“She also said you needed to know how I was doing. In case you’re still wondering: I’m well, but I’d feel better if you didn’t undermine your own health.”

Hank huffs out a laugh, but doesn’t bother to comment.

_'I don’t remember doing it, but you know I’m never going to stop worrying about you.’_

“Unfortunately I do know that. You’re about to apologise, I can tell. Don't. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Alright, I’m done,” Hank says. “If you need anything push the call button or send Erik. Erik knows where to find the ice chips. I’ll leave you two alone, but Charles, I need you to rest, alright?”

_'I promise. I appreciate all you’ve done for me ‘_

“I know you do. I’m happy to help.”

_'Any chance we can get rid of the bloody catheter?’_

“Not just yet.”

He sighs. _'Okay.’_

The moment Hank’s gone Charles moves himself a bit to the right, making room.

“What are you doing?”

_'What does it look like?’_

“Frankly, a bad attempt at an escape.”

 _'Get over here_.’

He waits for Erik to remove his shoes and lie down next to him on his side, carefully positioning his arm across Charles’ chest. It’s not the most romantic moment, but they’re okay with just lying there like an oddly arranged puzzle.

“Is this okay?”

_'Perfect. This is perfect.’_

“I should’ve asked before lying down, but do you need anything? Ice chips?”

With just his right index finger Charles touches the covered incision on his throat, curious. He can still feel Shaw’s hands there. He wonders what it looks like, if Erik can see Shaw’s hand imprints on him.

He shakes that image, focusing on Erik’s proximity.

_‘No, just you.’_

He closes his eyes as Erik presses his nose against the side of his face. There’s something primal about the gesture, something needy and desperate, yet completely innocent. He lets Erik hold on to him as he lies there, and reassures himself by turning his head just a little toward Erik and squeezing his arm just a little tighter.

“Try to sleep or Hank will have my head,” Erik whispers.

There will be nightmares, but not just yet, not tonight.


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Erik is the perfect boyfriend.

(Erik)

He keeps a close eye on Charles while he recovers. While he smiles at everyone and tells everyone he’s alright. While he makes arrangements for his sister's memorial service. Charles is exhausted by the end of it, sick of having to write everything down because he’s not allowed to speak more than an hour yet and even then it’s painful to hear the sound that comes out of his mouth, or rather the lack of it. Erik offered to relay his thoughts to Alexandrei, but Charles refused, clearly wanting to punish himself.

Even during the service Charles pretends to be alright, knowing fully well he doesn’t have to.

The service itself is exactly what Raven would’ve wanted, organised by the people she loved the most. They don’t talk about her as if she’s gone; they talk about her as if she’s there telling them to continue what she’s built. Raven would’ve wanted that, to live on in their future, their decisions and actions, at the very least as an inspiration.

Moira corners him, worried about both of them. He asks for some time and room, something she’s more than willing to give, as long as they keep her or the others in the loop. It’s not fair to leave their friends in the dark after all they’ve done. Erik doesn’t do a lot of talking in general, and these days Charles seems to need the same approach, he almost seems quite happy he has an excuse not to open his mouth.

So Erik waits. He waits until Charles is ready to deal with his losses. Until he breaks down.

They return to their quarters as soon as Charles is eating solid food, for now, until he decides to go through with the surgery.

Erik knows Charles isn’t going to give himself a lot of time to recover. As much as he wants Charles to take his time, he understands the need to get it over with, and the attraction of not having to think about his dead sister for a few hours at least.

Charles isn’t sleeping well and he isn’t doing much better. They both sleep when they’re too exhausted to tell their bodies otherwise.

He falls asleep one night, only to wake up three hours later. Erik’s confused at first, but the confusion quickly turns to worry when he realises Charles isn’t lying next to him. The concern only increases when he identifies the sound that’s woken him up.

It sounds like a sob coming from the bathroom. He’s out of bed and in front of the bathroom door before he can fully wrap his brain around it.

“Charles? I’m coming in, alright?” he announces softly.

No response, but he turns the knob and lets himself in. He spots Charles on the floor against the wall, right leg sprawled out in front of him and his left leg pulled close against his chest.

He takes a deep breath and moves closer, checking to see if Charles responds to his movement. Charles is still crying and shaking when Erik decides to sit next to him on the floor. Another sob escapes Charles and it sounds awful. He looks at Erik.

_'Can't even fucking cry like I want to.’_

That’s not why he’s crying of course.

_'I’m sorry I woke you.’_

“Don’t be ridiculous. This is important. You’re important to me.”

 _'We didn’t see each other very often, but I miss her so much_ ,’ Charles admits.

“Of course you do.”

_'I know you were expecting this to happen. I hoped it wouldn’t, but you were right. I don’t know how to do this.’_

“And you won’t for a long time. There’s no manual. It’s just one day at a time. And it sucks. You’ve done this before. You can do it again.”

_'I was a lot younger when my father died. I don’t think I ever managed to process his death, not fully. It’s as if I skipped some phases. I didn’t get the chance.’_

He realises Charles has stopped crying, or at least stopped risking damaging his throat.

 _'I’m so tired_.’

It doesn’t sound like self-pity in the slightest, just like a fact. Charles leans his head against Erik’s shoulder. He sits there, wraps his arms around him and waits until Charles’ breathing evens out. Making sure he’s asleep, Erik picks Charles up and carries him back to bed.

“You’ll be alright. You’re the strongest person I know,” he whispers while draping the blanket over him, hoping that perhaps Charles’ subconscious will hear him.  


(Charles)

He feels weak and fragile and when he looks in the mirror his image only confirms his fears. The bruising on his throat looks incredibly ugly, but the visual reminder is finally starting to fade. He’s leaning on the sink for support while he stares at himself in mild disgust.

Magnet nudges his leg to draw his attention. He and Erik decided they needed the dog with them as much as possible.

Magnet seems happy enough, if a bit confused at times by their strange human behaviour.

He scratches behind the dog’s ear. “Sorry your pack is a bit dysfunctional at the moment,” he tells the Shepherd. The animal tilts his head, either curious about what he’s saying or confused by the sound of his voice.

He’s allowed to speak as long as he takes it easy. The speech therapist told him to be patient. He nearly laughed, except it wouldn't have sounded like laughter at the time. It seems like a motion everyone agrees on.

 

(Erik)

Erik makes his way into the bathroom and comes to a stop behind Charles, having picked up on Charles’ inner turmoil.

Carefully, but quickly enough so Charles doesn't get the chance to move away, he puts his hands on Charles’ shoulders.

“Erik?” Charles asks, unsure of what he’s doing.

Gently, he lets his fingertips roam the bruises on either side of the healing incision. It’s a risk, he knows fully well this could trigger something, but he moves slowly.

“You know what this really reminds me of?” he asks Charles, who simply looks back at him in the mirror.

Magnet, meanwhile, lies down, his head on top of Charles’ foot, as if telling his owner he’s with him. _Go ahead, we’ve got this covered_.

“Do you?” he repeats softly. He wants Charles to say it out loud.

“Shaw. If you’re going to try to convince me that’s not true then… well, don’t bother.”

Charles has averted his gaze, staring at the water drops in the sink.

“You’re right. He’s part of it, but as much as he’s a part of my past, or even my present, it’s not what I think about when I see these bruises.” Erik takes his time to caress the bruises, touch the vulnerable skin. Charles doesn’t reply, probably a bit self-conscious, but he does lean into the touch.

“It’s not just a reminder of what happened. It’s a reminder of how much you love me. You were willing to risk your life,” Erik explains.

_'That wasn’t entirely altruistic.’_

Erik plants a kiss on the left side of Charles’ neck.

“We’re still here,” Erik continues, “and we’re not going to take that for granted. I don’t mind that you have a scar. It reminds me of when I met you.” He takes another moment to kiss Charles’ jaw this time. “You're gorgeous, you know that?”

Charles turns around slowly, careful not to put too much weight on his leg. Magnet takes that as a hint to paw his way back to the bedroom, his mission completed. Erik moves his hands to Charles’ waist.

“You win that one, but that’s just my personal opinion.” If eyes could smile, Charles’ eyes were definitely smiling at him. _'I thought you were smoking hot the moment I saw your photo,’_ the shorter man admits.

Erik laughs. “I thought you were going to be a selfish asshole when I saw yours.”

“Evidence suggests you’ve changed your mind,” Charles deadpans.

“Speaking of evidence,” Erik says, slipping his hand under Charles’ t-shirt. “I may need to collect more.”

Charles raises an eyebrow. “Is that so? I wouldn’t want to obstruct an investigation.”

As soon as Charles’ shirt comes off, Charles returns the favour by pulling Erik’s shirt over his head. Erik slides his hands under Charles’ bum and picks him up, planning on taking him to the bed.

Taking advantage of the moment, Charles catches Erik’s ear between his teeth.

When he has Charles on his back on the bed he removes his own trousers and climbs on the bed with him. Charles allows him to pull the waistband down, carefully removing the jogging bottoms and boxer shorts.

Erik ignores the brace, but starts kissing Charles’ thigh right above the injuries, moving up from there.

_'You’ll let me return the favour?’_

Erik looks up from his ministrations.

“Honestly, Charles. I don’t think I have it in me to say no to that.”

He plans on continuing, discovering every spot of Charles’ body, but then Charles starts laughing.

“What is it?”

Charles points to something behind him.

When he turns around he spots one German Shepherd sitting at attention, head tilted and eyeing them curiously.

“Our dog is a pervert,” he says. Charles is still laughing behind him. It’s the best sound he’s heard in days.

“Turn around,” he tells Magnet. “Go on, face the door,” he commands, pointing to the door for good measure. The dog makes sure to whine to let them know he’s disappointed by this turn of events.

Erik turns back to Charles. “Where was I?”

“Here,” Charles tells him, cupping his neck and drawing him closer so he can kiss him on the mouth.

 _‘I love you,’_ Charles adds.

“You can show me just how much in a bit,” Erik notes, kissing Charles’ chest now and moving down. He stops midway, as if coming up for air. “I love you, too.”

(Charles)

Alexandrei invites him over to Raven’s office. It’s been a while since they’ve spoken. He’s glad, he didn’t have the extra energy for difficult conversations, or perhaps he didn’t want to. He still doesn’t, but he can’t delay it any further, they need to discuss something.

He thought about suggesting a different location, but then Raven did tell him she left him something in her office. If he were to guess he’d say she left him and Alexandrei her will and testament. He’s sure she made the right decisions when she finalised the documents, that she left the right things to the right people.

“You look better,” Alexandrei tells him as he makes his way over to the desk. He puts his crutches next to one of the seats and lowers himself down in the nearest chair.

“Taking advantage of being mobile while I still can.”

Alexandrei nods. “You’re going through with the surgery, then?”

“I still need to talk to Wu, but it’s not much of a choice. Either surgery and a lot of physical therapy or a useless leg that will only keep causing me pain.”

“You’ll be surrounded by drill sergeants for the PT.”

“Looking forward to it,” he says, dreading every second of the recovery.

“If it’s any consolation, we have everything we need right here, and if, for some reason, we need anything else, it should be easy to acquire.”

“It’s not entirely reassuring, but thank you.”

The picture frames on the desk keep drawing his attention. They’re facing Alexandrei, but he knows which photos are in the carefully picked wooden frames.

There’s one photo he remembers very well. He can’t help himself when his hand reaches out to take it from the desk. He wants, no _needs_ , to look at it again. Against all odds Raven had made it to his graduation. He’d shown her around and they’d gotten a little drunk. She'd carried a camera with her all night, snapping the most ridiculous photos of the two of them. In the end they’d made it to his apartment where they’d fallen asleep on the couch, his baby sister in his arms. She’d fallen asleep reading his dissertation in multiple voices and he'd fallen asleep not much later feeling happy. The photo he’s holding shows both of them in the middle of a laughing fit, Raven wearing Charles’ graduate cap.

“Perhaps I should’ve…”

Gotten rid of the photos before inviting you over, Alexandrei means to say.

Charles shakes his head. “No, it’s alright.”

It must be painful for Alexandrei as well, there’s plenty of photos showing him and his sister looking happy together, or doing something she would’ve called 'badass’.

“Sorry, but we should talk. What did Raven tell you?”

“That she left documents for me in the bottom drawer of her desk.”

“Not much then.”

Alexandrei reaches down to open the drawer in question and retrieve a couple of sealed envelopes and other paperwork. One of the envelopes has his name on it.

“Do you want me to leave for a moment?”

Charles appreciates the concern, but he finds he doesn't mind Alexandrei’s presence. It’s a comfort there’s someone in the room with him who knew and loved his sister.

“It’s alright,” he says, opening the letter.

_Dear Charles,_

_I’m leaving you this letter in case we don’t get to talk before I die. I’d rather tell you all of this in person, but life doesn’t always grant us the things we want. We’ve had our differences in the past, as brothers and sisters often do. I want you to know that I_ know, _and appreciate everything you’ve done for me._

_I don’t have many regrets and I stand by most of the decisions I’ve made so far, including the ones I’ve made for when I’m dead. Perhaps my only regret is that I left home too soon. I don’t regret why I left and I know you understand more than anyone._

_I don’t know how much you’ll know about my life when you read this, or if I’ll have time to make changes to this letter as the current situation progresses._

_There’s an address at the bottom of this letter. I’d like you to go there as soon as possible. The people there will be more than qualified to answer any questions you may have and explain why I’ve sent you there._

_I’ve left a set of instructions in my will for you, but that’s not the point of this letter. I know that if I die it will break your heart. It would break my heart if something happened to you. What I want most is that you move on. Remember our bond and mourn me, but don’t stay there. Find what’s important to you and live your life, preferably with a handsome man by your side._

_I love you, big brother. Always._

_Your baby sister,_

_Raven_

 

Charles swallows and refolds the letter, not looking up for a long moment. He hopes Alexandrei doesn’t expect him to function. He doesn’t cry; the pain seems to hit him at the most random moments.

He ends up showing Alexandrei the address. “That’s here, isn’t it?”

The Russian nods.

“She erm, she said she left a set of instructions in her will?”

“That’s why I wanted to talk.”

“Go on,” he says, feeling slightly uncomfortable, not knowing where this is going.

“She wanted you or me to have her personal possessions, we’re free to decide what to do with them.”

“She knew we wouldn’t fight,” he says, a sad sort of smile on his face.

“Half of her money goes to us, split equally. The rest is for funding her life’s work, this place, or rather the organisation itself.”

Charles nods, he’d half expected these decisions even though he doesn’t need the money. He’ll probably keep some of her possessions, but he doesn’t want to think about it yet.

Alexandrei isn’t done yet. “The problem with the latter is that we need a leader. Someone who will decide what to do with the money and come up with a way to continue Raven’s hard work.”

“Hank told me about the system, there’s a list.”

“And a confirmation process.”

“But not everyone is allowed to see it.”

“I am,” Alexandrei says. “She wanted you to take over.”

Time slows down, almost literally, he thinks. He wasn’t expecting that at all. Why would Raven want him to take over her life’s work? He didn’t even know about it until recently.

“You’re confused.”

Well, that’s stating the obvious _and_ putting it mildly.

“Shouldn’t you lead this place?”

He shakes his head.

“I don’t have the ambition, or the political skills. I’ve been going crazy in the past week. Raven decided this a long time ago, knowing you’d live up to her expectations.”

“I’m not so sure about that.”

“I am. I’ve seen you interact with her people. They like and respect you. You don’t have to decide now, I know this is sudden. I’ll take care of everything while you decide.”

“I’ll… I’ll think about it.”

It’s the least he can do.

“Discuss it with Erik.”

“I will. What’s the confirmation process?”

Alexandrei opens one of the other drawers and pulls out a small circular object.

“We can get that over with, it doesn't mean you accept. It just verifies you’re next on the list. It’s a fingerprint scanner connected to our database. Just need you to scan your right thumb.”

He places his thumb on the scanner, waiting for something to happen. After a while the object beeps and emits a green light.

“I’m guessing the system accepts me?”

Which makes him wonder when Raven went about getting his fingerprint in the first place.

“It does. And as I said: take your time to decide.”

There’s no doubt in his mind he’ll need all the time in the world to decide.

 

(Erik)

“There you are! I looked all over for you.”

He’s leaning against the wall of the barn when the lift platform comes up carrying one eager-looking Logan. He looks ready for a run, one of his favourite routines.

“Are you gonna join me or what?”

Done peeing on one of the tractor wheels, Magnet limps over to sniff Logan.

“You realise you’ve smelled me before?” he asks the dog.

“I’m going to pass. Still stiff from our last run. And Mags here can’t join us,” Erik explains.

“Raincheck then.”

Instead of going for a run himself Logan pulls out a cigar and lighter, clearly not minding the contrast between his habits. He sits down across from him on the backrest of a wooden bench.

“You mind?” he asks, placing the cigar between his lips and showing him the lighter.

Erik shakes his head. “As long as you don’t burn the place down.” There’s an awful lot of wood and hay around.

“Where’s Chuck?”

“Talking to Alexandrei.”

Logan accepts that as enough of an answer.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but if either of you needs someone to talk to, you know where to find me. But you’re probably better off talking to someone else. Apparently I'm not that great a listener.”

“I appreciate the offer.”

He can tell it’s sincere.

“When I’m not away,” Logan adds.

On a spy mission, possibly abroad.

A lot of people have offered to help, which reminds him there’s still a lot to do. He should take the time to thank everyone for offering and being there. Alex, Darwin, Moira and Sean came over to help and he hasn’t even taken the time to sit down with them and thank them, not properly. He and Charles should do that together. The truth is that they both needed the time and room, and they’ve taken advantage of their friends’ willingness to comply. If they don’t bring their friends up to speed soon, Moira is going to end up cornering him again. He thinks they’ll forgive him for being focused on Charles, and Charles being focused on him.

“I think I can see why Charles likes you,” Erik tells him.

Logan takes the cigar out of his mouth, blowing out a puff of smoke. “That’s probably the nicest thing anyone’s ever said to me. Anyone not including Charles,” he corrects himself. “Charles is nice to his enemies, which in itself could be considered an unsettling strategy.”

“At first I thought you two were drinking buddies in college, but I’m starting to think there’s a lot more to it than that.”

Logan grins. “The two aren’t mutually exclusive. There is, maybe someday I’ll tell you.”

For some reason Erik knows they weren’t intimate. He’s not certain why, they’re both attractive people and Logan doesn’t strike him as someone shy of a one-night stand. As for Charles… from what he knows Charles has matured a lot when it comes to drinking and flirting. It’s hard to pinpoint, but he figures all of it was an act for him to begin with, or rather a way out.

“I’m going to head inside again,” he announces, straightening and stretching his muscles.

Logan nods. “I think I’ll go for that run. See you, bub.”

It’s drizzling, but Erik doesn’t comment on the weather, he figures Logan likes the extra challenge. He watches him leave and acts on his own words by taking the lift inside.

He feels better, having had some fresh air. His dog follows obediently, probably agreeing with the sentiment.

The lift door opens on the requested floor and surprises him with a view of Charles leaning against the wall, waiting for him.

Charles smiles at him, a warm welcoming smile as if they haven’t seen each other for weeks. “Hello, gorgeous.”

“You weren’t in my head. Do I want to know the how?”

Charles rolls his eyes. “You know I don’t need to be in your head for some things. But to be honest I figured you’d be on your way back soon, so I waited.”

He doesn’t bother to look around to check if there's other people in the corridor when he moves forward and presses his lips to Charles’. He feels Charles’ hands on his head, drawing him even closer to return the kiss with just as much force.

“Coffee flavour,” Charles notes, licking his lips seductively. “I had an interesting conversation with Alexandrei and I’d like your opinion.”

“Alright, where do you want to go?”

He considers taking Charles to the closest broom closet for other reasons. He makes sure that thought reaches Charles.

“You’re incorrigible, but then you know that.”

He’s proud of it.

“There’s a small lounge nearby, we should be alone there.”

Once inside the small lounge, Charles leans his crutches against the coffee table and seats himself on the leather couch, waiting for Erik to join him there.

Erik doesn’t hesitate and squeezes in next to Charles.

“Raven left her possessions to Alexandrei and me. Half of her money is for the base and I get half of the other half.”

“That’s not why you wanted to talk.”

“Not quite, she left me something else.”

He frowns, waits for Charles to continue.

“She wanted me to take over.”

“Wait. What are we talking about?”

“Everything. Her entire life’s work. I asked Alexandrei why he’s not on top of the list. Frankly, I think he ought to be.”

“What did he say?”

“That Raven always wanted it to be me That he dislikes the politics. That I have a way with people. I think Alexandrei prefers the undercover work.”

“He’s not wrong there.”

“But still, this... this is insane.”

“What did you say?”

“That I’d think about it. I mean, if my sister wanted this it’s the least I can do.”

He nods. “That’s fair.”

“You haven’t given me your opinion.”

“I’m thinking.”

“That makes two of us. So, not an outright refusal for either of us. Does that mean we’re actually considering this?”

“Is this something you see yourself doing? Something you’d like to do?”

“I’m not sure. I like teaching and discussing complicated topics. I guess I like thinking up strategies. I like helping people. I’d be doing all of that. And I suppose I’d delegate the things I’m not qualified for?”

“I don’t think your skills would be a problem. What are you going to do about the fact that you're famous?”

Charles smirks, an endearing reminder of the Charles he met, deceivingly innocent.

“I’d be hiding out in the open. It’s the perfect cover. Who in their right mind would suspect I’m running a spy organisation.”

“I’m more worried about the people not in their right mind.”

“I was hoping I’d have you for that, right here by my side, to keep me from being an idiot. It’s okay if you’re not comfortable with the idea. I’m just considering my options. I haven’t decided.”

“What if I _am_ comfortable with the idea?”

“Are you?”

“Everything I care about is right here. And as much as I like my job, working for you would be a lot more interesting.”

Charles reaches for Erik’s hand, entwining their fingers.

“I’m going to sleep on it, or perhaps have the surgery first and decide when that’s behind me.” Leaning his head against Erik’s shoulder, Charles continues: “There’d be changes. I wouldn’t want to work from here. I’d want a home for us.”

“I do miss the privacy of my apartment.” Even if they fixed the place, it would always be a reminder.

“Would you be against-” Charles stops speaking, suddenly caught in a coughing fit. He can hear the quality of Charles’ voice diminish by the word. “...something bigger,” he finishes the sentence.

“You’re bursting with ideas, aren’t you?

His approval is showing, Erik thinks it’s great to see Charles like this, motivated and thinking about their future.

“Again: haven’t decided.”

Erik wonders if Charles should limit his talking, his voice is beginning to give out on him. Erik started worrying a few days into his assignment and he never stopped. The feeling is mutual, he knows; he doesn’t plan on stopping, but it’ll be a nice change to worry about things that don’t include psychopaths.

 _'Sorry,’_ he apologises _'overdoing it a little.’_

“I noticed.”

 _'And you chose not to comment on my lack of self preservation?’_ Charles lifts his head from Erik's shoulder to stare at him in feigned shock.

“It’s a selfish thing.”

_‘Care to explain yourself?’_

“As much as I want you to have your voice back, exactly the way it was. I can’t help but notice that your current husky voice is... alarmingly sexy.”

Charles simply blinks at him in response, for what feels like ten minutes.

_'You like the sound of sandpaper. That’s a new one. Duly noted.’_

Erik shrugs. It reminds him of something. “I realised we never had the chance to go on a proper date, and we probably won’t for a while, but it’d be nice to do something normal. You know, find out if we actually like each other when we’re not in the middle of a crisis,” Erik jokes.

Charles raises an eyebrow.

“Yes, what if we despise each other,” Charles notes, dryly. “I have a feeling you’d pass the test. All kidding aside: I think I’d like that.”

“It’s a date then.”

“A date without an actual date.”

As soon as possible, it’ll be something to look forward to.


	29. Chapter 29

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m sorry this took so long. No excuses other than the usual self-doubt and constant tinkering. This chapter wraps everything up, so I wanted it to be decent enough before posting (not that I'm convinced this is the case). 
> 
> Hope you all enjoy. It’s been a bit of a wild ride for me. I’m working on a few other Cherik AU ideas, but I'm not sure yet if those will work out.
> 
> As always: spelling errors and violent crimes against grammar are mine. Not that I take pride in that.

(Charles)

 

Erik goes through his own phases of mourning, for a second time. Perhaps now he will finally be able to close that particular chapter of his life. Charles assumes it will take a while yet, for the both of them. Getting closure doesn’t change what happened, not the recent events, nor the past.

Erik is the first to have nightmares. The reason Charles knows this is because he lies awake most nights until Erik starts moving around, obviously dreaming of unpleasant situations. He doesn’t enter Erik’s mind, but he does wake him from his fitful slumber. He gently touches him, his hand around Erik’s arm to ground him and repeating the same words over and over again.

“You’re dreaming, Erik. Please wake up.”

When he does Erik looks up at him with confusion in his eyes. The confusion always turns into a mix of sadness and understanding.

One way or another they always end up asleep after that, unsure the next day of how they managed that.

Charles would offer to make the dreams go away but he knows Erik doesn't want that. He tries not to worry too much as long as they confide in each other.

Charles has nightmares as well, but not as often, or perhaps he doesn’t remember them. It doesn’t make the big empty hole in his chest any smaller. When he does remember them, he sees Raven. The closer he tries to get to her, the further she seems to float away from him. After a while he’s not sure anymore if he even remembers her like he should. He knows there’s no right way to remember a loved one, but he wants to do her memory justice and he feels guilty about not knowing how.

 -

The talk Charles has with his surgeon is a lot more revealing than expected. Wu lists all the risks of the surgery, even the small ones.

“Alright. I’ll sign your form.”

He’s read the entire thing and knows what to expect; the quicker all of this is over the better.

Wu is about to hand him a pen, but aborts his offer midway. “Why are you so eager?”

As if eager is the right word.

“Eager to get this over with perhaps. Eager for the surgery itself? No.”

He wants to reach for the pen but Wu puts it down again, leaning forward instead. “Did you hear everything I said? I need to be sure you know the risks.”

“My hearing’s just fine. I know the bloody risks. I’ve read that piece of paper at least seven times and it didn’t change my mind, alright?”

Wu nods, finally accepting his words. “You’re the first patient not to ask any questions. I have to find that worrisome.”

“Raven trusted you, she said you’re one of the best. I trusted her with my life. Don’t get me wrong: your bedside manner is the worst I’ve seen. And you might need to find a way to deal with the fact that you’re a doctor and your last name is Wu. Let me put it this way: I’ll deal with your quirks if you deal with mine. I have plenty to go around. At times it may not seem like it but I do know what I’m saying. Now give me that pen.”

“You’re a lot like your sister,” Wu notes, sliding the pen forward. It’s probably the nicest thing the man has ever said to him.

He means his own words. Raven trusted this man. He takes the piece of stationery and signs the document.

“I erm, I just have one request.” He feels self-conscious suddenly, and uncertain, scared even.

“Yes?”

“I don’t want to get addicted to the pain meds. No matter what.”

It’s not just a random concern, he’s genuinely worried that his body has already grown accustomed to some of the drugs he’s been taking. He doesn’t want to end up like his mother. It had been his own choice, especially when it came to Shaw, but now it’s another worry he needs to address.  

“Dr. McCoy asked me about those pills I gave you. To make a long story short: I’ve been working on these pills for years to help people like yourself. They’ve been approved, but you're one of the first people to take them, not counting the test groups of course.”

He supposes that’s as good an explanation as any. Not that he needed one. When it comes to medicine it’s always a matter of trust, whether you recognise the pills you're taking or not. That said, despite Wu’s attitude, Charles never once doubted the surgeon’s skills or knowledge.

“Why the secrecy?” he asks, mostly to see Wu’s response.

Charles can guess, the man doesn’t like the idea of people knowing he has a good heart in there.

When Wu doesn’t immediately respond, Charles says: “I guess I can confirm they work.”

Wu smiles. “Oh I _know_ they work. But thank you.”

If he’s going to take over most of his sister’s duties he’s keeping this man on his payroll, questionable attitude or not.

“If the surgery is a success you should be able to manage without pain relief on most days, depending on external factors. Not in the beginning, of course. It’ll take time, but we’ll get you off pain relief as soon as possible. And keep in mind that this is not a guarantee, every body is different and some people have a higher pain threshold than others. Do you have them with you?”

At his nod Wu reaches out his hand to take the pill bottle from him. He takes a look inside and laughs. “Honestly, I’m glad you’re worried about this, especially in the long run, but Charles, you’ve barely taken any of these.”

In his opinion he’s taken plenty, but perhaps part of the worry is more psychological, he’s willing to admit it if that’s the case. In a way that’s a relief, he doesn’t want to numb his senses more than necessary. The reason all of it worries him so is his late mother. No matter which way he looks at it, it all comes right back down to her and the fact that he saw her disappear in front of him and Raven, and couldn’t do anything about it. He can’t even blame her that much, it was her way of coping with his father's dead, and when it got worse it turned into her way of dealing with the toxic relationship she was in.

It’s the sort of baggage he plans on explaining to Erik as soon as he can get the words to leave his mouth. Thankfully Erik is clever and knows there’s a story there and is willing to wait for him to tell it, when he’s good and ready to talk about his highly dysfunctional family.

“That’s a relief. Thank you. I’ll see you tomorrow, then?”

Wu nods. “Tomorrow.”

Charles makes sure to spend the rest of the day with Erik, every single second of it.

-

The first thing he does after surgery is throw up on the floor. The nurse was almost by his side with a kidney dish, the nearest thing she could find, but _almost_ doesn’t make the floor any cleaner.

He apologises, more than once, in the voice of an elderly chain-smoker.

His first days after surgery are quite nice. He’s not in any pain, or not much. His friends drop by and talk to him, and Erik is a nearly unremovable presence by his side. Apparently he made a rather loud declaration of love when he saw Erik after surgery. He’d do it again too, without the aftereffects of the anesthetic.

The surgery was a success and everything else will depend on Charles taking care of himself and his body’s response to the physical therapy Wu’s already scheduled for him.

He has some healing to do first, but that shouldn’t stop him from practicing with the crutches under the eye of another specialist.

A week after the surgery he tells Alexandrei he accepts his, or rather Raven’s, offer. It’s a decision that allows him to keep busy while he recovers and works hard on regaining mobility.

At first it’s the paperwork, but after a while people start looking at him for orders and advice. It’s a strange feeling, but for some reason he gets the idea he can handle this. Perhaps it’s in his nature, as it was in Raven’s.

Erik makes a few ridiculous Bond-related suggestions and Hank of all people indulges him.

“Hank could be the Q to my Bond,” he jokes.

“Does that make me M? Or a Bond-girl?” Charles is not entirely sure if he likes that.

“No Bond character would do you any justice,” Erik ends up whispering.

-

One of the first decisions he makes is a change in personnel. They’ve lost a lot of operatives and he can’t expect to keep his sister’s organisation functioning without adding recruits. For starters he adds Alex and Darwin to his payroll and offers Erik’s old boss compensation for the loss of his team. The man seems quite okay with early retirement. Money has its way of fixing things.

He offers Emma a job as well, only duties she’s comfortable with. She accepts, but only if she doesn’t have to wear a uniform. While Erik doesn’t make any moves to get to know her, he doesn’t avoid her either, not _actively_.

He keeps Moira as his manager and Sean as his assistant. They’ll have to juggle a few more duties but he knows they’re up for it. And if not: he’s sure he can find someone to add to the team. His cover is important.

He tells Erik about his family, _properly_. And about his childhood. In return Erik tells him more about his. It’s strange to know someone so well when there’s still so much to discover. In a lot of ways they’re quite similar and in other ways they admire each other for doing things differently. Probably because they’re both willing to learn.

They end up having their first real date in the barn above ground. Moira and Conrad took care of all the arrangements, surprising them with a set table and an impressive menu to select from. They even made Magnet wear a tie. Conrad plans on getting himself a dog and if he ever remarries his woman will have to accept the dog. It’s as simple as that.

“That’s exactly how I knew you were a good catch, my dog approved,” Erik confesses.

Charles rolls his eyes at the statement and digs his fork into his appetizer. “Your dog approves of nearly everyone.”

Meanwhile Moira and Conrad seem to spend more time together than required. Either they made a friendly connection or laid the foundation for something more romantic. Or they both geek out over dogs. Charles wouldn’t put that past them either. Either way it’s nice to see both of them smile more often.

-

Charles only relies on pain pills when he absolutely has to. On some days he’d swallow the entire bottle if that would do him any good. On other days he can make do with just a little relief, and a massage from Erik. The physical therapy takes a lot out of Charles, but Erik always catches him, sometimes literally.

On a particularly bad day he ends up throwing one his crutches as far away as possible, in a fit of anger. Erik remains calm, always seeing his little setbacks coming from a Mile away. If Erik is relentless, their dog might be even worse. The animal clearly disagrees with his lack of perseverance, lifting the walking aid as much as possible and dragging it right back to him. It brings him out of his fit and back to the present.

“Okay, you’re right. I’m an idiot, but I’m still not playing fetch with you,” he says with as much affection as he can muster while drenched in sweat and on the verge of falling on his face.

Magnet wags his tail in excitement nevertheless.

Erik does lose his patience every now and then, mostly when they’re both exhausted. Charles admits he isn’t always easy to deal with and Erik… Erik’s been doing so much for him, more than he can ever repay.

“I’m sorry if I seem ungrateful,” he apologises.

“That’s not it,” Erik says, any remaining traces of frustration vanishing at the sound of Charles’ apology. “I’m sick of seeing you doubt yourself.”

Charles needs some time to process Erik’s words. He’s sitting on one of the benches in the gym, Erik standing tall in front of him.

“You’re not a pessimist by any means and you have a ridiculous amount of faith in nearly everyone, even people you’ve just met,” Erik explains. “But when it comes to believing in yourself you put up a wall and back out. The Charles I met months ago? He wouldn’t stand for that.”

Erik decides to sit down next to Charles. “Physically you’re taking every step that is expected of you, but your mind keeps lingering somewhere it shouldn’t, because you’re being unfair to yourself, you’re punishing yourself. I guess that’s funny coming from me.”

Charles tilts his head, he knows Erik’s right. “Define funny,” he says knowingly. This is exactly the sort of reminder Charles needs. “I don’t know how to do this,” he admits.

Erik squeezes his left thigh. “You don’t have to. I know you know it’ll fall into place. Once you accept things the way they are. Raven’s death wasn’t your fault, alright?”

“I… do know that,” Charles says. “Rationally.  _Logically.”_

“She sure as hell wouldn’t want you to suffer like this, or punish yourself.”

Charles lets that sink in because once again Erik is right. “You’d make a good psychologist,” he says after a few minutes. “And I’m the one with the PhD in psychology. Go figure.”

Erik gives him a smile. “If you need to yell at me you yell. If you need to cry you cry. I’d prefer that to seeing you retreat. And don’t you dare underestimate yourself.”

“I’ll try,” Charles offers. It’s the best he can do.

“And if not for me, you heal for Raven, alright?”

Charles nods. “How about for both of you?”

Erik plants a soft kiss on his temple in response.

It takes longer than he wants it to, but in the end he can finally exchange the crutches for a cane and is allowed to put more weight on his right leg. It’s a slow process, but thanks to his new job both he and Erik keep busy. And when they’re not working they’re discovering how much they truly belong with each other, like one hell of a clichéd film. Not everything is always perfect, but they are okay with that and willing to work on improving their lives and relationship every step of the way.

-

He feels very comfortable around Alexandrei, almost as if he has a good friend, or rather big brother, looking over his shoulder. He’s always there when he needs advice. Alexandrei has become his advisor and sounding board.

“Thank you for putting your trust in me,” he says one day in the first few weeks. “I wasn’t sure I could do this.”

“I was,” Alexandrei replies casually, flipping through a personnel list. “You’re a natural.”

“I was thinking that maybe we should have tournaments. Sports, perhaps. Maybe something brainier for the science department. After everything that’s happened it might help with the general spirit. Not that I’m complaining, mind you, everyone's giving a hundred percent, but they deserve a little R and R. If it’s a success we can make it an annual thing.”

“Sounds good,” the Russian agrees. “I wouldn’t be against a chess tournament. I hear you and Erik play.”

He nods.

“And I want a suggestion or thought box. I’d rather have people come to me and tell me what’s on their mind, but anonymity might be easier for some.”

Alexandrei laughs. “That will work until everyone figures out you can get impressions from touching things.”

“Not always,” Charles defends himself. “And it’s not as if I would take advantage. Also,” Charles continues, steering the topic away from that, “I was thinking it would be nice to allow everyone to study and learn new skills.”

Alexandrei nods. “Raven was actively training some recruits in hand to hand combat. We should expand that.”

“And I was thinking that perhaps we should move. Has Raven ever told you about our childhood home?”

Charles can tell by the look in his eyes that she has, and yet he looks eager at the prospect.

-

When he’s declared mobile enough Charles takes Erik to his childhood home, a monster of a mansion surrounded by green and more green.

“I was thinking that perhaps we could work from here.” Of all people he wants Erik to see it first.

“This place is huge,” Erik comments, exploring the entry hall.

“Plenty of rooms, and yet you’d have to share one with me.”

Erik turns around to face Charles. “All you have to do is say the word. I doubt anyone will be against it. And you _are_ their leader now.”

“There’s a fallout shelter as well,” Charles says.

“Let’s hope we won’t be needing that.”

“Oh, you should see the master bedroom,” Charles suggests, taking his hand and leading him to the stairs. Charles is getting quite fast with the cane, especially when he wants something.

“We’re going to have to test the bed. For the greater good.” Erik sounds deadly serious, following him up the stairs.

They do test the bed, and the shower, and the bed (again) and possibly a table or two. Erik insisted, just to be safe. As it turns out the furniture doesn’t need replacing, sturdy as ever.

“I’m pleased to say I wouldn’t mind waking up next to you in this bed,” Erik notes.

“I agree.” Charles rests his head in the crook of Erik’s arm, tired but very very satisfied.

-

Alexandrei is the second person he shows around. Even with the Russian’s blessing he wants the man to know what the property means to him and what it meant to Raven.

He shrugs. “We grew up here, it’s as simple as that. We loved living here until our father died.”

“And your mother remarried.”

Charles nods, leading Alexandrei from the kitchen to one of the main sitting rooms. The expression on Alexandrei’s face goes from something akin to neutral to anything but.

“Pompous is the word you’re looking for,” Charles helps, smiling at the look of confusion. The entire mansion is ridiculous, from the furniture to the windows and the outrageous details. “What did Raven tell you about this place?”

Alexandrei gives him a knowing look and for a second he’s frightened and a chill makes its way down his spine, but since this conversation is the reason he asked Alexandrei over, he takes a deep breath and knows he’s willing to jump in at the deep end.

“Enough to know you don’t need to reopen any wounds, Charles.”

“I need to know we’re on the same page, I don’t want it to seem like I’m doing something Raven would hate. She hated this place after our father died, we both did.”

“Which is why she left as soon as she could.”

Charles grabs the backrest of one of his late mother’s fancy armchairs for support.

“She made the right choice,” he tells Alexandrei.

“That’s not how she felt about it,” the Russian admits. “Especially after she figured out what was going on, but by then your mother was already gone and your stepfather and brother had left.”

“I’m still glad she left when she did.”

“Why did you stay?”

“I owed it to our mother, to the person she was before she indulged in too much alcohol. Raven’s letter, she-”

“I don’t think she ever forgave herself for leaving.”

“Well, for what it’s worth, at the time I didn’t know how much longer I could keep her safe. Kurt and Cain were getting bored, you see.”

Alexandrei nods as if that confirms his thoughts. “ _For what it’s worth_ ,” the Russian repeats Charles’ words. “She wanted to go back home some day, with you. Personally, I think we’re doing that now.”

He takes a deep, but slightly shaky breath. “ _Thank you_ , for everything.”

He supposes that settles it.

They’re going to use the land he owns and do something good with it.

The move to the old Xavier property seems to take ages, but the end result is more than worth it.

By now Charles only needs the cane on bad days and while he walks with a limp on good ones, he can manage. When the pain does get bad or when he overdoes it Erik is always there for comfort.

-

Charles takes Erik on yet another date, they’ve lost count by now, to a very nice local restaurant. It has some of the best wine Erik has ever tasted and the food is beyond marvellous. The dessert is heaven, but has nowhere near the effect Erik thinks Charles has on him.

“I am better than dessert?”

“Get out of my head, Charles,” Erik says, but it’s an obvious joke. His other half is shaking his head, grinning.

“I’m not sure I can grant you that wish, you’re simply too irresistible, I’m afraid. I _can_ grant you other wishes if you’d like," Charles trades.

“Is that so?”

“I’ll tell you more when we get back.” He smiles mischievously.

After dinner they go for an evening stroll in a nearby park. The moment rather perfect, Erik digs out a small box and gets on one knee.

“I was beginning to think _I’d_ have to ask you. We never really discussed, but it seemed like you wanted to.”

“Shhh, Charles,” Erik says with a smile. “I think we came a long way and I wanted to wait until you were better. The last year and a half I’ve gotten to know you, in good times and in bad. And I’ve come to the conclusion that there is no one I’d rather share my life with. Charles, will you marry me?”

“Fuck, you’re perfect. Yes, Erik. Yes, I will.”

Erik quickly slides the ring over Charles’ finger so he can take all the time in the world to smother him with kisses.

“You really didn’t know?” Erik asks in between kisses.

“I knew you were planning something. Since I like surprises I chose not to pry. I figured you weren’t cheating on me.” Charles shrugs. “And you’ve gotten good at the mind voodoo.”

Erik raises his eyebrows. “If you say so. You’re right about the cheating, I’ll give you that.”

“You’d better not cheat,” Charles notes, drawing Erik closer for another kiss. “Or I’ll make you believe you’re a cat.”

“Can you?”

“Would you like to find out?”

Erik purses his lips. “I think I’ll pass for now.”

“Well,” Charles adds, “let me know if you change your mind.”

-

They have their wedding seven months later. Hank is pleasantly surprised when Charles asks him to be his best man. And when Erik asks Logan, Logan decides his running mate is joking. It takes some convincing to make Logan believe he’s serious, but once it gets through Logan’s thick skull the muscled man needs an uncharacteristic moment to compose himself.

The fact that Raven can’t be with them saddens both Charles and Erik, but they involve Alexandrei in their planning instead, knowing how well he, too, knew Raven. They make sure they do it properly, the way Raven would’ve wanted it.

They get Magnet to carry their rings. Their dog steals part of the show by chasing after a pigeon, but neither of them minds the distraction as it’s ideal for a sneaky kiss.

In the end the ceremony itself isn’t the most important part. Nothing changes between them, but it’s nice that Erik is officially his and that he is officially Erik’s.

 _Until death do us part_ had better be forever, because that’s exactly how long they plan on loving each other.

Charles thinks Raven would’ve rolled her eyes at the sentimentality, but at the same time she would’ve loved to see them dance at their wedding. If the way Erik looks at him is anything to go by she would’ve come around to the sentimental aspects too.

After Logan and Alexandrei insist they can run things for as long as they need, Charles and Erik decide a honeymoon is in order. They travel through Europe and the only soul allowed to bear witness is their dog. Magnet doesn’t have a clue what’s going on but he’s having the time of his life with all the different people he sees and all the different smells he gets to discover. Not to mention he gets to sit in a car, go to dog friendly hotels and eat the best dog gourmet in the business.

“Are we sure this is _our_ honeymoon?” Erik asks from a hotel bed while Charles is getting ready for dinner in the bathroom.

Charles pokes his head outside, toothbrush in his mouth, to see what’s going on. Magnet is lying on his back next to a nearly empty bowl of outrageously expensive dog food. The animal looks like he’s having a better time than they are, which is nearly impossible.

“Well, I guess I married both of you?”

“Okay, get back in there before I get jealous of the dog.”

Charles gives him the most innocent of smiles.

And while Charles still has that big empty hole in his heart, he believes it might be changing into something more bearable. There’s something Erik-shaped in his heart that has a tendency of pushing off all the weariness. He thinks he’ll wrap his arms around that soothing warmth and hold on to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I can't say this enough: THANK YOU to everyone who took the time to read, comment, bookmark, subscribe or leave a kudo. You kept me going. ❤️ :)


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